BSS-757  Daddy's Bed Vol. II
(Billie Monday)


Chapter 1 

She could feel the heat of the city, the smoky, smog-filled air permeated 
her lungs, but she felt light ... free, full of hope. She looked around the 
train station searching for a porter to carry her single, but heavy 
suitcase, but everyone seemed to be running, hurrying and she was caught in 
the shuffle, so she dragged her bag to the curb and hailed a taxi. She held 
the thin wad of bills amounting to two hundred dollars tightly in her hand, 
fingering them, hoping that it would be enough to see her through her week 
of auditions and interviews. Mr. Jacobs had assured her that one of his 
contacts would surely be able to help her and that two hundred dollars would 
be more than sufficient to see her through. She had been given the names of 
a few resident hotels in Hollywood and asked the cab driver to take her to 
the nearest one. 

The cab weaved in and out of the heavy midday traffic and pulled up in front 
of a large, grey, dingy-looking building near the end of Sunset Strip. 

"This is the Colonial Hotel?" she asked apprehensively. 

"That's right, lady. Charming, isn't it?" the driver replied curtly. 

It wasn't what she had expected, but she got out of the cab, paid the driver 
and struggled to get her suitcase up the front steps. She opened the front 
door and looked around the lobby. It was an ancient building with high 
ceilings, the paint was peeling from the walls and the fake columns that 
were interspersed here and there in the lobby with no particular design. The 
carpet was thread-bare and dusty and the whole room had a musty, stale odor, 
but this was to be her new home, at least until she became established. 

"Yes?" the elderly man at the desk growled at her. "Can I help you?" 

"I'm Jennifer Rhodes," she stammered, "I have a reservation." 

"Oh yes, another aspiring, bright-eyed starlet," he said sarcastically, 
"Come to Hollywood to be a famous actress!" 

She didn't know what to say so she just stood there in front of the desk 
staring at him and hoping that this wouldn't be the attitude of everyone on 
the Strip. 

"That'll be a hundred dollars ... in advance," he growled. "Pay me now." 

"But, I thought that the room was just seventyfive dollars a week, why must 
I give you one hundred?" she asked, not wanting to part with half of her 
money. 

"The twenty-five is a deposit... in case you decide to leave and haven't 
paid for phone calls or laundry." 

"Oh," she answered simply, counting out one hundred dollars and handing it 
to him. 

"You're in Room 325. Here's the key, and good luck," he added unemotionally. 

She pushed the button for the elevator and waited for the car to come down. 
Several other girls were sitting around the lobby, toying with their nails, 
reading scripts, studying their make-up in a compact, all involved with 
themselves and not looking or caring what the person next to then: may be 
doing. A rather effeminate young man bounced through the lobby, looking as 
though he were about to audition for the lead in Peter Pan, and she had to 
look twice to make sure that it was a man! The door of the elevator slid 
open and as she got in she wondered if she looked as anxious as nervous as 
the others that she had seen. Some of the girls were very pretty, but in a 
hard sort of way and she hoped that she would not have to wear all that 
heavy make-up, eyelashes and low-cut dresses, but that she could rely on her 
talent alone to make her a star. She refused to think any differently, she 
knew that she would make it, no matter how long it took her! 

She put the key to her room in the door and turned the latch. She pushed the 
door, but it was being locked by something, so she put her suitcase down and 
edged her way through the narrow opening and into the room. She looked at 
the shabby, lifeless, dreary cubicle that was her room taking it in all at 
once. It was so small that there was barely room to turn around and the only 
furniture was an iron postered bed, a tiny dresser and a stuffed chair, 
covered in a flower printed curtain material. It had been the chair that had 
blocked her entrance, it was too large for the wall space, but there was no 
other alternative for a place to move it. She reached outside and pulled her 
suitcase through the narrow opening and sat down heavily on the bed, testing 
the springs. The mattress creaked and the lumps that were visible even 
through the bedspread were even more obvious as she sat down. 

"This is terrible," she said out loud, not believing that they could get 
away with charging so much for such an awful room. 

She began to unpack her suitcase, putting as much as she could in the 
limited drawer space and shoving what was not absolutely necessary back into 
the bag and storing it under the bed. 

She pulled the blind on the only window and looked out to her beautiful dull 
view of the walls of the next building. 

"Gawd," she murmured, "what next?" 

She freshened her make-up, combed her hair and decided to take her first 
look at the wonders of the famous Sunset Strip. Anything would be an 
improvement over what she had seen so far, and she needed a lift of her 
spirits. She waited for the elevator again, thinking that it must be the 
slowest, most delapidated one in the world, then decided to take the stairs. 
On each landing she could hear voices coming from various rooms, girls 
vocalizing, a couple arguing, or perhaps rehearsing a scene, and she thought 
that this was what it was all about. 

She walked through the lobby and noticed that some of the faces had changed, 
some remained the same, but each one reflected a kind of despair, dejection, 
hopelessness. I'll never let this town do that to me, she thought as she 
pushed open the heavy door and walked onto the street. She asked a young man 
who was loitering on the front steps which way she should walk to get to the 
downtown section and he looked up at her, smiled and pointed to her right. 

"New in town, eh?" he said cheerfully. "Good luck, honey. Everyone needs 
it!" 

She smiled back at him, thanked him and began to walk quickly in the 
direction he had pointed out. The air was hot and close, specks of dirt 
floated around her as she walked down the Strip and she wondered if the 
whole city were like this. She could feel butterflies in her stomach as she 
began to pass the theatres, the casting offices, and watched the people 
scurrying past her who seemed to always be in such a constant rush. 

She held her head high, stretching her neck to check the street signs and 
look for the historic and famous spots that she had heard her father speak 
of so often. Not even the grim expressions on the faces around her could 
dampen her spirits, not today at any rate. She had gotten her way, she 
didn't have to go back to school and she was going to be a star! Her mind 
wandered as she walked, daydreaming and wondering if people would stop her 
and ask for her autograph when she walked down this very street again in a 
few months. She had no doubt that she would make it, she refused to let that 
possibility enter her mind. She practiced the smile she would use when the 
people did stop and ask her to sign their books, menus, shirt cuffs, 
whatever, and rehearsed the words she would speak as she answered them. It 
was going to be marvelous, she was going to be famous, rich and adored; the 
toast of Hollywood! 

She had walked almost twenty blocks before she reached a place that her 
father had told her about so many times, Grauman's Chinese Theatre. For the 
first time, she lowered her eyes.and studied the names, footprints, 
handprints that were cemented for posterity in the sidewalk in front of the 
theatre. Her eyes scanned over the myriad of signatures until they stopped 
at the one she knew so well, Carter Rhodes, her father. 

"Someday mine will be there right next to his," she whispered to herself. 
"I'm going to make it like Daddy no matter what!" 

She stood there staring at the pavement for almost fifteen minutes, looking 
for names of the young stars who had made it, those that were about her own 
age, or had been when they had gotten their first big break. There were only 
a few, but they were there and that was all that mattered. It was possible 
and she was going to make it, she had to make it! 

She hoped that she wouldn't have to rely on the fact that she did have an 
already famous father, that she would be able to make it on her own merits. 
She didn't want her father to ever be able to say that she had used him to 
become a star. She wanted him to be proud of her, proud of her talent, her 
ambition and her perseverance, and not for one minute think that she had 
ridden to the top on his coat tails. 

Mr. Jacobs had warned her about several things to watch out for about 
signing contracts, appearing over anxious, over-selling herself and she 
hoped that she could remember all the things he had told her. It wouldn't be 
easy to turn down the first contract that was offered to her, to wait and 
see if there would be a second or even a third offer and weigh each 
separately and carefully before making a decision, and it didn't even cross 
her mind that the first offer may not come! 

She had to believe that she was the most beautiful, talented, desirable 
property to ever walk through the doors of each studio; not only believe it 
herself, but convince them that she was. She knew that she would be nervous, 
but as an actress she couldn't let her nervousness show. She had to be calm, 
self-assured, even a little arrogant, and let them think that she was doing 
them a favor by giving them an auditionl She fully understood the psychology 
behind these instructions, and she prayed that she would be able to carry 
them out with the same fervor that she felt for an acting career. She 
couldn't fail, she couldn't go home until she had made a name for herself, 
by herself, and not as Carter Rhode's daughter! 

She toyed with the idea of changing her last name, but this may be a little 
premature. She was confident that she could make it, but she was not so 
naive as to believe that the Rhodes name would not open a few doors for her, 
create a few opportunities earlier than if she were not a Rhodes. 

She wanted to throw her arms up in the air, shout so that the whole world 
could hear she was here in Hollywood and she wag going to be a star! Her 
body quivered with the excitement, like an electric shock had stimulated her 
body, her senses, her mind and she almost danced down the street, her head 
light, dizzy from the anticipation of what lay ahead. 

She reached the corner of Hollywood and Vine, listened to the beeping of the 
car horns from the impatient drivers and she wondered if anyone could be as 
impatient as she. She glanced at her watch and realized that it would soon 
be getting dark and so she headed back towards her one room that was her new 
home. The thought of the small, dingy room depressed her slightly, but just 
for the moment, because she knew in her heart that it wouldn't be long 
before she would be living in Beverly Hills, hobnobbing with the other great 
stars and maybe even marrying a handsome and famous actor just like her 
father. 

She knew that she would have to sacrifice her social life in the beginning 
in order to concentrate fully on her studies, her scripts, her image, but 
she didn't doubt that love, in fact, many loves would be hers in time. In 
the meantime she would devote all her energy to becoming known, sought after 
as an actress and respected in her own right. 

She meandered slowly back towards the hotel feeling that she already 
belonged to the town and the town belonged to her. She would not get 
discouraged, let worry line her face or temporary setbacks sour her 
attitude, she wouldn't even think about them. After all, Mr. Jacobs was a 
man with many connections and he had made the contacts for her, so what did 
she have to worry about. Hollywood was going to be her oyster, her playpen, 
her world. 

Mr. Jacobs had hinted that she may have to do "certain things" that may not 
always make sense to her, but when she had asked him to be more definite, he 
just smiled at her and told her that he was sure it would be nothing that 
she couldn't handle. 

She felt that nothing could stop her or even deter her, her ambition was 
unquenchable, undeniable and it wouldn't be long before all this was behind 
her and she would be famous and people would be coming to her and she would 
no longer have to go to them for jobs. She had never been more sure of 
anything in her life! 

Chapter 2 

She spent a restless night, tossing and turning unable to sleep. She tried 
to blame it on the lumps in her mattress, the newness of her atmosphere, but 
in reality she knew that it was just a severe case of nerves. There was so 
much that she wanted to accomplish the next day and it was frustrating to 
have to wait for nine o'clock in the morning to come. She was fully awake 
hours before the sun was up and walked down the hall to the shower. She let 
the cold needles of water rinse the soap from her body, prickling her skin 
to a healthy, rosy glow then dried herself briskly with a rough terrycloth 
towel. She threw on her robe and tiptoed back to her room to get dressed. 

She stood in front of the yellowed, veined mirror and let the robe slide 
from her shoulders and admired her body. She was tan from the summer and the 
line from her bikini was clearly visible against the narrow strip of 
whiteness over her fully rounded, firm breasts and trim, supple hips. She 
turned sideways, viewing the voluptuous curve of her bosom, the pert 
erectness of the pinkish nipples, the flatness of her stomach and the slight 
bulge of her thighs that narrowed into the slender stem of her calves. She 
knew that she had all the physical attributes that it took to make a star, 
that no one could doubt that she was a well-developed, luscious young girl. 
She shivered slightly and she ran her hands over her rib cage and cupped the 
white, soft mounds of her breasts in her hands and jiggled them slightly, 
then let them fall free. They bounced saucily with their youthfulness, 
standing out proudly from her body and she took a deep breath. 

"I'm going to make it!" she said to herself in the mirror, "I'm going to be 
a star!" 

She picked out her best lingerie and laid it carefully on the bed, spraying 
it lightly with cologne. She wanted to look her very best all day long and 
she knew that she would have to be fresh for many hours regardless of the 
heat and the miles of walking that she knew she would have to do. The 
minutes seemed to drag by, but she didn't want to get dressed too early so 
that she wouldn't wrinkle her outfit before she started on her rounds. She 
sat down at the dresser and arranged her hair more carefully than she ever 
had before. It fell loosely, shining over her shoulders with a lustre that 
had come from the hours she had spent brushing it every day since she had 
decided to make her big move. It had to look casual, but perfect, her 
crowning glory. She pulled one lock down over her forehead, letting it fall 
over one eye, then pushed it back, deciding that the sexy approach wasn't 
right just yet. 

She applied her make-up with the expertise of an artist painting his most 
famous and beautiful portrait, careful not to apply too much nor too little, 
adding and taking away until she was sure that it was just perfect. She 
added a dash of lip gloss to her petulant mouth and smiled smugly at herself 
in the mirror. 

"That ought to do it," she commented to her reflection. "Not bad, if I do 
say so myself." 

She splashed a floral cologne over her body, powdered herself and slipped 
into her scanty, but substantial brassiere, adjusting her breasts like she 
were molding them, pulled the sheer grey stockings over her long, slender 
legs and fastened them to her garters. Her bikini panties covered the strip 
of white that had been covered by her bathing suit, then slipped the light, 
clinging jersey dress over her shoulders and smoothed it over her hips. The 
skirt was short enough to reveal the trimness of her knees and four inches 
of stockinged thigh above them, suggestive, but not brazen. 

She looked at herself once again in the mirror for the total effect and 
added a single gold chain around her neck then walked down the steps to the 
lobby so that she could call for her first appointment. 

She pulled the list of the agents that Jacobs had given her from her purse 
and dialed the first number with trembling fingers. 

"Hello, this is Jennifer Rhodes calling," she said calmly, hoping that her 
nervousness would not show in her voice. "Mr. Jacobs asked me to call you 
for an appointment." 

There was a long pause on the other end while the secretary checked the 
appointment book and then told her matter-of-factly that a Mr. Ralston could 
see her at two that afternoon. 

She was a little disappointed that he could not see her that morning, but 
told the secretary that she would be there then, and walked outside and 
started toward the heart of town once again. She walked slowly not wanting 
to tire herself out, not get overheated because the sun was hot as it beat 
down on the sidewalk. She passed the hours by window shopping and walking by 
the marquees of the theatres, memorizing who was playing in what, trying to 
decide what she would say that afternoon and trying to acquaint herself with 
her new surroundings. 

At one-thirty she climbed the stairs to a plush office just off Hollywood 
and Vine and told the receptionist that she had an appointment with a Mr. 
Ralston, then took a seat. The reception room was filled with pictures of 
stars, both young and old, autographed and smiling, confident. 

One day mine will be there too, she thought, as she turned her head from one 
to the other. The receptionist smiled knowingly at her, then went back to 
her work. Several other young girls came in and told the girl at the desk 
that they, too, had appointments and sat down here and there in the room. 
She looked at them, trying to evaluate their looks, their talents, but after 
a while they all began to look alike. All young, all eager, just like her! 

It seemed to be hours before the receptionist told her that Mr. Ralston 
would see her and motioned for her to walk down a corridor in back of her 
desk until she came to his office. 

Trembling, she knocked on the door and a gruff voice said, "Come in." 

"I'm Jennifer Rhodes," she said timidly, waiting for him to ask her to sit 
down. 

"So you are," he said, "I know your father. Sit down." 

She sank into a huge leather chair, trying to pull her skirt down around her 
knees as she leaned back. 

"You want to become an actress, do you?" he said non-committally. "Can you 
act?" 

"Yes sir," she said, trying to sound confident and self-assured. "I've been 
in many school plays and I've been told that I'm a natural." She wondered if 
she hadn't gone a little too far by adding that last comment, but it Was too 
late now. 

"We'll see," he said, grinning at her. "This is your first interview, isn't 
it?" 

"Yes, sir," she answered simply this time. 

"Young lady," he continued, "I'm sure you realize that there are hundreds, 
thousands, of young girls who come to Hollywood every year with the same 
hopes, the same dreams, the same aspirations that you have, don't you?" He 
didn't give her a chance to answer, but went on, "Out of those millions very 
few ever make it to the top. It's not a easy life, it's hard work and it 
takes more than just a pretty face or even a famous father." 

She wondered if he were just trying to tell her to forget it and go home 
even before he had heard her read, but she sat there and listened to what he 
had to say. 

"I know it won't be easy," she said; "I'm willing to work very hard, 
sacrifice and study, but I know that I can make it!" 

"You've got the right spirit," he said, "but remember, this is only your 
first day. I'd like to hear you say that after several months, maybe even a 
year or two." 

A year or two, she thought. This was something that had not entered her 
mind. She hadn't contemplated it taking that long. 

He didn't say anything else for a few minutes, then he buzzed his secretary 
and told her to bring in an ingenue script. He handed her the pages of 
dialogue, asked her to look over them briefly and then read them to him. 

It was the first time that she had ever had to read "cold" as they say in 
the trade and she was afraid that her voice would shake or she would sound 
monotone because she didn't know the lines, but she took a deep breath and 
began. 

She looked at his face from time to time to see if she could detect any 
reaction whatsoever, but he was just looking down at his desk, making notes 
and only looked at her once or twice. When she finished she put the script 
in her lap and waited for him to say something. 

For the first time he looked her directly in the eye and nodded. 

"Well," she asked, "what do you think?" 

He smiled at her and answered, "Give your phone number to the receptionist 
and we'll get in touch with you if we have anything." 

Her disappointment must have shown in her face, so he added, "We usually 
don't cast ingenue parts from this agency, but we will keep you in mind if 
anything should come up." 

"Thank you," she murmured and walked dejectedly back down the hall to the 
reception room and gave the girl her address and phone number. 

It hadn't been the way she had expected to be treated but she knew that she 
couldn't let it get her down. She went to a phone booth and called the next 
agency on her list and set up an appointment for the next day. She tried to 
go over what she had said, whether or not it had been her fault that they 
had given her the brush-off, but she couldn't pinpoint any one thing in 
particular that might have been handled wrong. She was determined that she 
would get a better response the following day, so she walked slowly back to 
her hotel and tried to plan what she would wear, what she would say in order 
to get that contract. 

The next day, and the whole week went just like the first day and she 
couldn't help but feel discouraged. She went to her room in the evenings and 
tried to fight the tears that would stream down her face after each 
disappointment. She hadn't anticipated this reaction at all and she hadn't 
prepared herself to cope with it. She had heard some of the other girls 
talking in the lobby and she knew that some of them were getting parts even 
though they may be only bit parts, but she hadn't even gotten an offer of 
any kind. She knew that she was just as attractive as the others, in fact, 
more attractive, and she was certain that she could read the lines just as 
well, so she didn't know what the problem was. 

She had called everyone on her list except for the last name and she wanted 
to wait until after the week-end before seeing them, she wanted the time to 
think. She knew that this last agency was just a small, not very well known 
one, but at this point she couldn't be particular. She had had hopes of 
being grabbed by a large, famous agency or studio, but reconciled herself 
with the thought that she had to start somewhere and she wouldn't let the 
fact that this last name on her list was just a small, less famous firm. 

All week-end long she spoke with the other girls and tried to get some hints 
from them as to what she should do, but on Monday morning she didn't know 
any more than she had on Friday. 

She had to take a bus to her appointment on Monday because it was in another 
part of town from the rest of the agencies and as she looked around the 
neighborhood searching for the correct building number she had an uneasy 
feeling and she shook involuntarily. 

The office building, though not particularly old, was badly in need of 
repair. The wooden steps were cracked and squeaking, the hallway- was dimly 
lit with a single light bulb and a few letters were missing from the name on 
the door. 

Maybe it would be better inside, she thought as she knocked on the door and 
waited for an answer. 

"Come in," a woman's voice called out, "door's open." 

She peaked around the corner of the door as she opened it and walked into 
the inner office. A large stocky woman with corn-yellow hair was sitting 
behind an old wooden desk sorting out pictures. 

"You the Rhodes girl," she asked, glancing up at her. 

"Yes, I am," she answered meekly, not sure whether she wanted to stay or 
turn around and forget the whole thing. 

"Mr. Barrish will be with you in a minute," she said. "Make yourself 
comfortable." 

She took a seat in a straight back chair and tried to relax while she waited 
for the man she was supposed to see. She didn't have to wait long before a 
decidedly stout, slovenly dressed, middle-aged man motioned to her from 
another doorway and told her to come into his office. She wondered if this 
could be Mr. Barrish or whether it was the janitor, but the latter didn't 
seem likely. 

She sat down in a chair across from his desk and she could feel his eyes 
staring at her legs when she sat down. His eyes travelled over her entire 
body shamelessly, brazenly, appraising her, undressing her mentally. He 
didn't speak for a few minutes, but just stared and she was beginning to 
feel very uncomfortable. 

"Stand up again," he said finally, "and walk around the room for me. I want 
to see how you carry yourself." 

Obediently she got up and walked from one end of his office to the other, 
turned and walked back again. She tried to keep her head high, her shoulders 
back, yet look as natural as was possible. Her legs were trembling, but she 
tightened her muscles in hopes that it wouldn't show. 

"Hhmmmmm," he muttered, "quite a body." 

"Pardon me," she said, thinking that he had spoken to her. 

"Nothing, my dear," he continued, "I was just thinking out loud." 

When she had finished walking for him she stood in front of his desk waiting 
for him to tell her what to do next. 

He looked up at her and said, "Take off your clothes." His voice showed no 
emotion, but what he had said was merely a statement, a command. 

W-what," she stammered, "I don't understand." 

"Don't be alarmed," he said, grinning up at her, "if I am going to represent 
you I have to know what I'm getting. It's hard to tell these days if what 
you see is really there or whether it's false. I have to protect myself, you 
understand." 

"I don't think that I can do that," she stammered, "I don't think it's 
really necessary." 

"Suit yourself," he said, "but I can't help you if you're not going to 
cooperate. " 

She sat down in the chair and just stared at him, hoping that maybe he would 
change his mind, but he stared right back at her, his expression unchanging 
and she knew that he had meant every word he had said. 

"The movies these days are allowing more and more freedom and as you know 
some scenes are played with little or no clothes on, so I don't see why it 
should bother you now. You'll just have to get used to it." She just sat 
there, saying nothing, not believing what she was being asked to do. 

"Well," he said impatiently, "what are you waiting for? Or do I have to help 
you?" 

"I think I'd better go," she stammered, gazing at the floor. 

"You must not want to get into the movies very badly," he challenged her. 

"Oh, but I do," she answered, her eyes pleading with him to change his mind, 
"but I just don't think I can do what you're asking." 

"Nonsense," he said, "all the pictures these days snow a lot of flesh, and 
that's all I'm asking you to do, or aren't you what you appear to be?" 

"I'm not padded, if that's what you mean," she replied softly. 

"Well, then, you've nothing to be ashamed of. You have a very beautiful body 
and rd like to see what we can do with it." 

He was glaring at her, his eyes glazed slightly and she realized that if he 
were going to help her that she would have to do exactly what he said. 

Slowly her fingers began to undo the buttons on the front of her sweater, 
opening them one by one, her fingers shaking from nervousness. 

He was leaning further over his desk until she thought that he was about to 
lunge at her and she could feel his eyes devouring every inch of exposed 
flesh and she pulled the sweater from her shoulders. 

He was breathing heavily as he got up from his seat and walked across the 
room toward the door. He opened the door slightly and told his secretary 
that he was not to be disturbed that he was holding an audition, then he 
turned the lock and walked toward her. 

"You're very lovely, my dear," he panted, his stare hot and lustful. 

She didn't answer him, but continued to unfasten her buttons and slipped the 
sweater from her shoulders. Her breasts jutted out proudly, full and ripe, 
above the scanty push-up brassiere and she unzipped her skirt and let it 
fall to the floor along with her sweater. 

He walked up behind her and cupped her breasts in his hands, pulling them 
free from the cups of the brassiere and pinched gently at the nipples until 
they were erect and throbbing. 

He ran his lands lustfully over her body, tugging at the thin, black panties 
and garter belt, forcing them down over her hips and kneading the flesh of 
her soft, round buttocks and flat stomach. She could feel the hardness of 
his thick, stubby prick pushing into the crease of her bottom through his 
trousers and she felt nauseated, but tried not to show it. His breathing was 
becoming more rapid as he turned her around and forced her backwards towards 
his desk. 

She closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to look at his face, his 
leering grin and his pig-like eyes. 

"Don't be afraid of me," he grunted as he quickly unzipped the fly of his 
trousers and pulled this throbbing, fully hard manhood free. He let his 
trousers and shorts fall to the floor and he stepped out of them. She 
blinked her eyes and tried not to stare at him, but he looked so ridiculous 
standing there in his socks and shoes, wrinkled shirt, no pants and his 
short, but thick, jerking penis stick- ing out over his protruding belly. He 
disgusted her, but she knew that she would have to do as he asked if she 
wanted him to help her. 

She cringed backwards as he moved towards her once again, but the desk was 
blocking her way. She had never felt so naked in her whole life, so 
humiliated, and she wanted to grab her clothes and run out of the room, but 
she knew that the door was locked. 

He lunged at her like an animal, his squat body covering hers in heated 
passion as he bent her backwards over the desk. She could feel the jerking 
of his hot, hard penis as it -moved upwards on her thighs, searching for the 
tiny, pink opening between her legs. 

"Please, Mr. Banish," she choked, "please stop. I can't do it." 

"But think of your future," he reminded her, his hands grabbing and twisting 
her breasts violently until they ached from the pressure. "Your future." 

His arms held her fast against the hard wooden desk and he forced his hips 
cruelly between her legs until she was forced to spread them wide, allowing 
him greater freedom at her body. His cologne smelled sickly sweet as it 
mixed with the sweat that was forming on his forehead and cheeks as he bent 
down over her and began kissing, sucking and biting at her neck. He covered 
her mouth with his, forcing his tongue deep into her throat until she 
thought that she would choke. She had never been so humiliated, so degraded 
and she wasn't sure that this was what she had to do to gain stardom, but it 
was too late to turn back. 

She tried to push him away, but he only held her more tightly, his body 
crushing hers until her struggles only made her weaker and her legs and arms 
began to tremble. She felt dizzy, helpless and she knew that this awful, fat 
man was going to take her no matter what she did. He grabbed her thighs and 
pulled them even further apart and lifted her up until she was lying flat on 
the desk and he was leaning over her. 

His hands groped for the opening between her legs and she felt one thick, 
stubby finger shove deeply into her tight resisting channel and she groaned 
in pain. 

"Relax baby," he chuckeled, "you're going to love it." 

The muscles in her legs were tense and she wanted to try to kick herself 
free, but she couldn't get any leverage so her legs just flailed wildly 
around his wide, flabby hips. 

He massaged her breasts harshly, twisting and pulling the tiny, pink nipples 
unmercifully and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. He seemed to enjoy 
the fact that he was hurting her and she wished that he would do what ever 
he was going to do and get it over with. 

He held her hands flat against the desk as he prepared to mount her, his 
fat, sloppy body pinioning her, covering her completely, as he shoved his 
hard, thick prick into the tiny hold between her legs. 

"Aaaaaggggghhbh," she groaned as she felt her vaginal lips forced harshly 
apart and his thick stub tear at the warm, resisting flesh. His mouth came 
down on hers to stifle her cries as he pushed and shoved deeper and deeper 
into her tight, hair-lined cunt. 

Tears of humiliation and fear began to stream down her cheeks as he 
pummelled against her, her hips crushing against the hardness of the desk 
and she knew that she would be badly bruised from his lustful attack. She 
could feel her head growing light and faint and she wished that she could 
pass into unconsciousness so that she would not have to remember what this 
awful, little man was doing to her, but she didn't and each time he pushed 
harshly into her she felt more and more ashamed until she wanted to die. She 
wished that he would cum so that he would leave her alone, but he seemed to 
have the stamina of a horse. 

"Please ... pleeeease stop," she begged, but her only answer was a cruel 
laugh. 

He seemed to fuck her for hours, but finally she could feel his already 
thick, throbbing prick expand even further and his groans become more 
passionate. 

"Now, baby, now ... NOW," he grunted and she could feel the hot, sticky 
flood of his semen spill like a floodtide deep up into her belly. 

When he was spent he slithered off her body and quickly put his shorts and 
trousers back on. She stood there for a moment before she could regain 
enough composure to look for her underwear that was scattered around the 
office floor, and put it back on. She didn't know what to say, she had never 
felt so cheap, like such a whore in her life and the tears of humiliation 
kept streaming down her face. 

Mr. Barrish looked at her, watching her as she got dressed and then took her 
arm and seated her in the chair once again. 

He grinned down at her and said maliciously, "Man, that Jacobs was right. 
You are a hot little number. We're going to get along just fine!" 

So that was it, she thought. Jacobs had told him that she had had an affair 
with him and that was why he had acted the way he had. The thought scared 
her because now she wasn't sure that it had made any difference one way or 
the other as far as an acting job was concerned. This man had just taken her 
because Mr. Jacobs had told him about her and he was evening the score. 

"May I go now," she asked hesitantly. 

"Certainly, my dear, and you'll be hearing from me," he chuckled as he 
unlocked his office door and escorted her into the reception area. 

She walked straight for the outside door, just glancing over at the 
secretary who was smirking up at her knowingly and Jennifer knew that she 
was probably used to Barrish's little whims and that this had happened many 
times before. 

She was numb as she walked down the street to get a bus back to the hotel. 
She couldn't think about anything except what she had done and wondered if 
he really would help her or whether she would end up like so many of the 
other girls that come to Hollywood, defeated and broke, forced to write home 
for money so that they could return to their own small home towns. 

"It can't happen to me, it just can't." she vowed to herself as she took the 
long ride back to her room. 

Chapter 3 

A week goes by and she hasn't heard a word from Barrish. She tried to call 
the office several times, but the secretary bad given her some lame excuse 
about his being in a conference. She knew all about his conferences and 
surely he should have the courtesy to return her call. Her money was just 
about gone and she didn't want to have to write to Jacobs or anyone else for 
more, she would get a part-time job first, doing anything. 

She waited for another two days then decided to call Barrish's office once 
again and not hang up until she got some sort of a definite answer. If the 
secretary cut her off she would just keep calling back until she talked with 
him. 

The secretary was cool when Jennifer told her who it was, but told her to 
hang on for just a moment and she would see if Mr. Barrish were free. 

It seemed like an eternity before she heard his gruff, cold voice answer the 
phone and say, "Hello Jennifer, I was wondering when I'd hear from you. 

"But I've called several times and you've never talked to me," she insisted. 

"I never got the message, my dear, you know how those things are," he 
answered cooly. 

She wasn't sure whether or not to believe him, but it didn't matter, she was 
talking with him now and she wanted to know just where she stood and she was 
determined to find out. 

"Do you have any parts for me," she asked, her voice shaking with fear. "You 
told me that you might have something this week." 

"Let me see," he said, pausing, and she could hear the shuffling of papers 
on his desk. "Yes, yes, there is something that you might be good for, but 
there seems to be one small problem." 

Her heart sank to her stomach, but this is actually what she had expected 
anyway, so she couldn't be too disappointed. 

"What's the problem?" she asked hesitantly. "What must I do?" 

"Don't sound so worried, my lovely," he said, "It's nothing that can't be 
handled." 

She waited for him to go on, holding her breath until she thought she would 
pass out in the phone booth. 

"In order to qualify for this part, you must be represented by an agent. The 
hiring company will not accept anyone without an agent. Even though I'm 
going to produce it, I cannot tell them what their policies can and cannot 
be as far as the stars go. I can recommend you for the part, but you must be 
sent in by an agent. They've got a strong union, you know," he chuckled, 
"Just like Jimmy Hoffa!" 

"But you know that I don't have an agent. I've been trying to get one for 
weeks, but no one seems to be interested in taking on new talent. So what 
can I do about that?" 

She was slowly losing all hope, but he continued, "I know of one agent, the 
best, as a matter of fact, and I'm sure he will represent you if I just give 
him a call." 

"Will you call him for me?" she asked nervously. 

"Certainly," he continued, "but I must warn you about one thing." 

"What's that," she asked, wondering why he would be warning her, surely this 
agent couldn't be any worse than he had treated her. 

"Well, to be truthful, I've already set up your appointment with him, but he 
told me that he is far from fond of your father, so be careful." 

"Why doesn't he like my father," she asked, hardly believing that anyone 
could dislike him. 

"Many years ago, when your father was just starting out he cancelled a 
contract with this agent and went with another. This man had started your 
father out and then got left behind when your father became famous, so it is 
only natural that he would be slightly bitter. 

"Oh," she said simply, not knowing what else to say. 

"But don't let it worry you too much. I told him that you were a very 
special and talented girl and that I was sure you would be fair with him if 
he would represent you." 

"Thank you ... thank you very much," she stammered. "When is my 
appointment?" 

"You can go over there this afternoon about three. His name is Paul Wallace, 
and he really isn't such a bad guy. Good luck." 

She thanked him again softly and hung up the receiver, and raced back to her 
room to prepare for her interview. 

She wondered why her father had broken his contract with Mr. Wallace, and 
she wondered if he would tell her. She had never known her father to have 
any agent but his present one and he had never mentioned a Mr. Wallace. It 
must have been quite a long time ago, or she was certain that she would have 
heard of him or at least her father would have told her that he knew him. 
She didn't want to make any mistakes on this interview, her whole career 
depended upon whether or not he would represent her. If she had an agent, 
then she could get a part, without an agent, she didn't stand a chance. 

She chose a very conservative, plain black dress to wear because she didn't 
want him to think that she was just another starlet who was trying to look 
sexy in order to get parts, and looked as if they would do anything to get 
them. She had tried that once and she didn't want to take another chance 
like that. 

By two o'clock she was on her way downtown to her appointment. She didn't 
want to be late or do anything else that might irritate this Mr. Walla.ce. 
As the bus pulled up in front of a large modern building she got out and 
walked into the huge marble lobby and looked for the directory. Her eyes 
scanned the W's until she was "Paul Wallace Enterprises, Third Floor." She 
walked to the first row of elevators and pushed the button. She hoped that 
the people around her could not tell that she was nervous and she wondered 
if it showed; and if so, how badly. 

When the elevator stopped at the third floor she got out and walked to the 
plush office of Paul Wallace. 

The receptionist told her that Mr. Wallace was expecting her and would be 
out in just a moment, so she sat down and waited. She was just about to 
light a cigarette when he called to her from a doorway and the receptionist 
told her to go on back. 

He was an older man about fifty-five, greying hair that was very curly, 
pointed, aqualine features and a firm, wide-set mouth. Although his features 
were not what one would call classic, he was an attractive man in an 
unorthodox sort of way. He smiled warmly at her and told her to have a seat. 

"So you're Carter Rhodes little girl," he said, almost to himself. "You're 
not so little though, are you," he laughed, his eyes flicking appreciatively 
over the curves of her frail, mature body. 

"No, I guess I'm not anymore," she said, smiling back at him and hoping that 
her voice was not quivering. 

"I don't know if Barrish told you, but I used to know your father," he 
continued. 

She could not detect any bitterness in his voice and his eyes seemed 
friendly enough, so she was puzzled with his question. 

"Yes, he told me you knew my father when the was just beginning to act," she 
said guardedly. "He's working in Europe right now," she added. 

"Yes, he's done very well, very well indeed," he said, his tone not 
changing. 

She said nothing and waited for him to continue but he just glanced in back 
of him and pointed to a picture on the wall. 

"That was your father about twenty-five years ago. I had just started out as 
an agent and he was one of my first clients. We sort of grew together, you 
might say. That is, until a certain point. We've both been successful in our 
own separate ways." 

"You certainly look successful," she said innocently, hoping that it was the 
right thing to say. 

"I can't complain," he said, "however, if your father had stuck with me, I 
think we both would have been better off, but that's all in the past now." 

"Who's the woman in the picture with my father?" she asked. "She's very 
beautiful." 

"Yes, isn't she," he answered, "that's my wife and she still is a very 
lovely woman. She's quite a few years younger than me, but I guess that I 
was just lucky to get her. She was barely nineteen in that picture." 

She didn't know what to say, she thought that this was the strangest 
interview she had ever had, he hadn't asked her about her acting yet, and it 
didn't appear that he was going to. 

"Do you have any pictures of yourself that I may have for publicity 
purposes," he asked. 

"Why yes," she replied,, her face beaming, "does that mean you're going to 
represent me?" 

"Barrish tells me that he thinks you can act and he has a part that you are 
suited for, so yes, I'll be your agent, at least for the time being. It 
isn't easy being an actress and I'm going to be sending you all over town 
until you think your feet will fall off, but you've got to make the 
contacts, see the people, get acquainted before anyone will sit up and take 
notice. There are a lot of good and pretty actresses in this town, so it is 
who you know that counts, believe me." She had heard that so many times 
before that she had no reason to doubt it and he seemed to know what he was 
doing. 

She opened her portfolio and pulled out a stack of pictures, 8 x :Lo 
glossies that she had had taken when she first arrived in town and handed 
them to him. He looked at them very carefully and said, "These are fine for 
now, but in a week or so, when you will have more time we'll have to see 
that you get some other ones taken ... showing you in a bathing suit, 
outdoor shots and things like that. You can only tell so much from a plain 
head shot. It's nice, don't get me wrong, and you're a very beautiful girl, 
but the producers want to see a little more of what they are getting." He 
laughed, his eyes narrowing slightly, and she nodded, knowing exactly what 
he meant, Mr. Barrish had made that very clear to her. She shuddered 
slightly, remembering that long, horrible afternoon she had spent in his 
office, but right now it didn't seem to matter, he had kept his promise and 
she was on her way. 

"Did you bring any other clothes with you," he asked, knowing full well that 
she could not possibly have any wardrobe in her small leather case. 

"No, I didn't" she said, tier voice faltering, "I didn't know that I was 
supposed to. Would you like me to go home and get something else?" 

"No, that's not necessary, I guess. It's just that that dress you have on 
covers up so much of you and in this business it pays to advertise what you 
have going for you." He was grinning at her and she detected a slight 
evilness in his eyes, but said nothing. 

"I could bring some back with me the next time I come to your office," she 
volunteered weakly. 

"I'm a very busy man, Jennifer and it isn't al ways possible to see me 
whenever you want to, so I'm afraid we'll just have to get along with what 
we have here. " 

"But I don't have anything here," she insisted, "I told you that." 

"That's not important for what I have in mind, your lingerie will do." 

Oh no, she thought to herself, he can't be the same way as Barrish, this 
can't be some sort of conspiracy against me, I couldn't stand a joke like 
that! 

"What do you mean," she asked guardedly, afraid of what his answer was going 
to be. 

"Just that I want to see what's inside that neat little package and that 
your lingerie will suffice for a bathing suit. You see it depends on your 
figure who I send you to, what type of roles I look for for you, etc. You 
can understand that, I'm sure." 

She nodded her head, but remained in her seat, not moving, her hands folded 
in her lap. 

He began tapping his fingers on the desk impatiently, staring at her, 
waiting for her to make a move to remove her dress and let him get a good 
look at her. Barrish had told him that she had a knock-out figure and he 
wanted to sample it with his own eyes, and morel His eyes narrowed as he 
thought back about twenty-three years, when he had first started in 
business. Carter Rhodes had been his best friend and his best client, and he 
had just married the most beautiful girl in the world. She had been naive 
and sweet when he had met her and it was a refreshing difference from the 
cold, hard, Hollywood types he had met, who would do anything to get into 
pictures. His wife had not cared about getting into movies, she just wanted 
to be his wife, then she met Carter Rhodesl He gritted his teeth to keep 
from swearing at the picture that was hanging on the wall, a picture that he 
had hung up as a constant reminder to be careful, to not trust anyone, not 
even your best friend. He couldn't let himself be hurt like that again. Even 
the years that had gone by had not erased the memory of what he saw that 
afternoon when he walked into his own home unexpectedly and found Rhodes and 
his wife together making love. 

He had waited all these years to get some sort of revenge at Rhodes and now 
here was his opportunity sitting right in front of him, just like the angels 
had sent her to him. 

"Take off your dress, my dear girl," he said, smiling at her. His voice was 
not hard, but his eyes betrayed his real feelings and she wanted to get up 
and run. 

"Right now, you mean," she asked, knowing that he did, but hoping that he'd 
change his mind. 

"Yes ... right now," he said sternly, "unless you'd rather forget about the 
whole thing. I don't care, it's your career." 

She knew that she would have to do it if she wanted him to represent her and 
she tried to rationalize the fact that her lingerie was just the same as her 
bikini, but then she remembered that she had worn her very sheerest because 
the dress was rather warm and she didn't know what to do. 

"I don't have all day, Miss Rhodes," he said, his voice becoming more formal 
and annoyed. 

"Yes sir," she mumbled as she stood up and unzipped the back of her dress. 

He moved his chair around to the side of his desk and watched her every 
move. She glanced down at him once and she could detect a growing bulge in 
his trousers, and she closed her eyes tightly and prayed that he wouldn't 
attack her as Barrish had. He must see thousands of girls this way, she told 
herself, I'm nothing special, but a gnawing fear was growing in her belly. 

"Hurry it up dear, I have another appointment after yours," he urged her and 
she let her dress fall in a heap on the chair where she had been sitting. 

"Come here," he ordered her and she walked slowly across the room and stood 
subservently in front of him. 

His eyes devoured her, drinking in every curve, every inch of smooth, 
porcelin flesh and he took a deep breath. 

I'm going to enjoy this more than anything in my whole life, he thought to 
himself and laughed out loud. 

"What's the matter?" she asked, surprised at his reaction to her 
semi-nudity. 

"Nothing, I was just thinking out loud. You're very beautiful, and in all 
the right places. Come closer." 

She moved a little closer toward him until he could reach out and touch her. 
His hands went around her waist almost as if he were measuring her, then 
slid down over the slight, plump bulge of her hips. She stood there, 
immobile, afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe. His touch was gentle at 
first, but his fingers began to dig into her skin and she started to pull 
away. 

"Don't run away from me, I'm not all that bad," he said, his voice becoming 
thick and hoarse. 

"No ... please," she pleaded, but his fingers would not release her. 

"I've waited a long time for this opportunity," he gasped, letting his one 
hand fall to the thick, protruding bulge in his pants and quickly unzipping 
his fly. 

Tears began to stream down her face and she knew that she would have to 
allow herself to be tormented, humiliated and debased again if she wanted to 
become a star. She wished that she had never come to Hollywood, that she had 
been content to go back to school, but it was too late for those thoughts 
now. 

He tried to hold onto her while awkwardly undoing his own trousers, so for a 
moment he had to let go of her. She quickly jumped back and started to grab 
her dress that was on the chair, but he got up and grabbed her roughly, 
pulling her brassiere from her body with one quick rip. Her full, round, 
firm breasts fell free and she tried to raise her arm to cover her nudeness, 
but he pushed her hands away and dragged her back to where he had been 
sitting. 

"Come here," he repeated, pulling her closer to him, burying his head 
between her two young, voluptuous breasts and nibbling fiercely at the 
nipples until they were hard and erect. 

"God," he breathed, "this is so sweet." 

His huge, erect organ was standing up from his hairy belly, sticking up like 
a cannon about to explode. It jerked wildly and she couldn't help but notice 
that it was extraordinarily large. 

"You like that," he said mockingly, noticing that she had been staring at 
it. "Well, you're going to have it, just like your father gave it to my 
wife!" 

Jennifer gasped and a new stream of tears began to run down her face. 

"It's not true," she choked out, "He wouldn't do such a thing." But she knew 
that her father did and probably had done exactly what Paul Wallace was 
.talking about. 

"No ... you can't. I'm not responsible for that," she pleaded. "My father 
didn't do it." 

"He did, baby, and now you're going to do it to me. You've got such a hot 
little body, and that's just what its going to cost you to become a star! 
Agreed?" 

"Y-Yes," she stammered after a moments hesitation, almost choking on her 
tears. 

He grinned up at her, enjoying her torment, her fear, her humiliation, and 
he ran his hands over her face, letting one finger probe between her lips 
and into the wetness of her mouth. 

She wanted to bite his finger, but she resisted the temptation and just 
stood there while he did as he pleased with her body. 

His hands left her face and settled on her shoulders and he pushed down on 
them. She fought against the pressure of his hands, but then lie ordered her 
roughly, "Get on your knees!" 

"Oh no," she gasped, "Please ... no ... don't!" 

"On your knees girl, before I have to bring you to your knees!" 

His voice was harsh and cold and his hands were like a vice on her shoulders 
as he pushed her to the floor. His giant cock was jerking in front of her 
face just a few inches away and he spread his knees wider and pulled her in 
closer between his thighs. His strong hands were tangled in her hair and 
there was no doubt in her mind as to what he wanted her to do. She tried to 
turn her head away from the monstrous, thick, throbbing snake that was 
bobbing up and down in front of her, but his hands held her head fast. 

"Don't fight me, baby," he groaned in anticipation and delight. "You're 
going to suck me and suck me good until I don't want anymore!" 

He pushed his hairy thighs and hips forward into the chair and pulled at her 
hair until she could feel the hard, throbbing knob of his penis pushing at 
the corner of her mouth. 

"Open up, baby," he commanded. "I want to come in!" 

She clenched her teeth, refusing to let him shove his horribly hard and huge 
prick into her throat. She shook her head, but would not open up. 

He yanked at her hair even harder until she let out a little gasp of pain. 
When her mouth opened just slightly he shoved her head down on his 
monstrous, pulsing cock. 

"Suck me honey, blow me," he said, rubbing his meaty thighs against the side 
of her face. He yanked her head back and forth, forcing his prick deep into 
her throat until she thought she would choke on it. 

"Suck it harder," he ordered her and she could feel all the fight and 
resistance going out of her. She ran her tongue over the long, thick shaft, 
teasing the head of his huge prick then running down the other side. 

"Ooohhhhhhh, mmmmmmmmm," he moaned, pressing his loins harder against her 
mouth each time she sucked on his rock hard manhood. 

"Look at me, baby," he said, and pulled her head slightly upward so that she 
could look at him while she worked her mouth over his long, thick penis, 
rubbing it, sucking it. 

He leered down at her and said, "This is what your old man did to my wife. 
He was my best friend and I caught him like this with my wife, my young, 
innocent wife!" 

His voice was choked with emotion and she almost felt sorry for him. He 
hadn't been able to forgive her father or his wife for all these years and 
now he was getting his revenge! 

He could feel her teeth against the tender un derside of his cock and he 
closed his eyes, knowing that this ecstasy would soon be over and he would 
shoot his sperm deep into her throat, making her take every drop of the 
bitter semen until her white little belly was filled to the brim. 

"Work it harder," he groaned, looking down once again at his purplish, huge 
organ as it slid in and out of her tiny, moist mouth. He had waited for this 
for so long that he was surprised that he hadn't cum the minute her mouth 
closed over his cock. It felt like a huge, tingling shaft, a flagpole 
quivering in the wind and he pumped his hips harder against her mouth. 

Her lips slid over the entire length of his shaft each time he pushed his 
hips forward and then let them ease back again. Her mouth was tired and 
stretched, and when he shoved his cruel cudgel deep into her throat she 
thought that she would choke to death. She had never known a man to last for 
so long. 

"Do it for your daddy," he gasped at her, "Suck it good for your daddy!" 

The words stung her ears and tears rolled uncontrollably down her face and 
into the corners of her mouth. She could taste their salt as she tried spot 
to gag on the monstrous, throbbing creature chat was hammering at the back 
of her throat. His cock was so long ... so thick, and each time it rubbed 
over her lips and pounded at the back of her throat she had to swallow to 
keep from suffocating. 

"That's it ... that's it, suck me good, harder now," he groaned, "Suck the 
head!" 

She knew that he had to be close to his climax for she could feel his legs 
begin to tremble on either side of her face, and he was moaning each time 
she swallowed when he touched the back of her throat. The pungent, bitter 
taste of his sperm was slowly oozing from the tiny slit at the end of his 
penis, coating her lips and tongue. 

He grabbed her head furiously again and shoved her face harshly into the 
juncture between his legs. The hairiness of his thighs and pubic mound 
tickled her nose and she could hardly breathe, but he held her fast. 

"Aaaaggggghhhh," he gasped, as she felt the first strong spurt of his semen 
shoot into the back of her mouth and throat. It was difficult for her to 
swallow with her head pushed so far into his crotch and some of the sticky 
liquid ran down her chin. He seemed to be emptying gallons into her, stream 
after stream poured into her throat without stopping. 

"Take it, baby, take it. Eat it, swallow it," he gasped with each new 
contraction. She swallowed as fast as she could, but his sperm just seemed 
to keep coming, endlessly. 

"Oooooooohhhhh, aaahhhhhhhh" he groaned letting his hips relax back against 
the chair slightly. She could feel his stiff prick going limp once again as 
it slid slipperly out of her mouth and hung loosely against his thigh. She 
collapsed against the chair, his hand still holding the back of her head as 
she gasped for breath. 

"Sooooo good," he murmured, letting his legs fall loosely apart, while she 
struggled back to her feet. She staggered dazedly over to her chair and 
tried to fasten her brassiere, but the catch had been broken when he ripped 
it from her earlier. She folded it as best she could and tucked it in her 
pocketbook, slipped her dress over her head and collapsed in the chair, 
waiting for him to say something. 

"Just a minute," he panted, and walked to another door in the back of his 
office. She heard the water running and waited for him to come out. 

When he came back in he acted as if nothing lead happened. He had changed 
his trousers and shirt and looked as fresh as he had when she first walked 
in the office. 

"Yes Jennifer, I think I'm going to like being your agent. We're going to 
get along just fine," he grinned. "Now don't worry your pretty little head 
about what happened this afternoon, we're both adults and these things do 
happen." 

His voice was unemotional, impersonal, totally business-like and she 
wondered how he could do it. She had been completely shaken by the 
experience, although it had not been as bad as she had anticipated. In fact, 
several times she had to remind herself that she had been forced to do what 
she did, for she found herself almost enjoying it, wanting it, and she 
wondered what was wrong with her. Vas she really becoming a chip off the old 
block like her father? 

Chapter 4 

Paul Wallace kept her busy with interviews, pict[zre-taking, and auditions 
for the next several weeks. She had been advised that she could have the 
part in the play Barrish was producing, but as it turned out, the lines had 
been cut drastically and what was supposed to be a starring role, was now 
just slightly more than a bit part. She was disappointed, but she didn't let 
it discourage her, at least she was working, and that was more than a lot of 
other girls were. Although the part was small, she had to play a young farm 
girl who is being romanced by all the neighboring young men and her costumes 
in most places were less than scanty. All the critics said that her body was 
better than her acting, but blamed it on the part and said that she showed 
promise. Slowly, but surely she was approached by different magazines for 
her pictures and before long, her photographs, with little or nothing on, 
were all over the country. 

She had heard that other big stars had gotten their start like this, and Mr. 
Wallace said that the exposure was good for her, so she posed for pictures 
every opportunity she got. She was becoming the youngest sex goddess to hit 
Hollywood in many years and she was on her way. She knew that she had gotten 
several of her roles because she had slept with the right people. But she 
had finally resigned herself to the fact that this was what you had to do, 
and anything was worth it, anything at all. 

Mr. Wallace had given her several lectures about her supposed laxness in her 
morals, but he was making a play for her too, so he never said very much, 
except an occasional dig, "Like father, like daughter." He had spread many 
rumors about her father that were just now coming back to her, and people 
had warned her to watch out for him, because they were afraid he would take 
his grudge against her father out on her, but so far she had had no reason 
to worry. As long as he got to spend a few hours, or sometimes a night, 
alone with her, he seemed to be relatively happy. She knew that he wanted to 
be with her only because he felt that he was screwing her father by being 
with her, but even that didn't matter anymore. She knew that she would make 
it to the top and no one or nothing was going to stop her now. She didn't 
care what the other people said, or even that her own agent was criticizing 
her father, she had to have success, she had to show her father that she 
could do it. Each day she had a list of rounds that she had to make; she had 
to see new studios, new casting directors, new producers, and soon she was 
the best-known new face and body around town. She was careful to accept only 
the invitations from people who could be of some help to her and not waste 
her time with the young actors who were asking her out. 

.She was finding out that it was not always an easy road to hoe, because 
there were other young girls who were also willing to sleep with directors 
and producers in order to get parts, but her body had become so famous 
through the magazines that she did have a slight edge on the others. The men 
had seen her picture and were more than anxious to get a first-hand look at 
it. She knew that this was her biggest weapon and that she would have to use 
it if she wanted to guarantee her stardom. From time to time she wondered if 
her father realized that she would have to go through to make it, but even 
if he did, he would never admit it to her, his pride wouldn't allow it. He 
couldn't admit that his little girl was sleeping around in order to get 
parts. Her parts had never really been anything outstanding, but one day Mr. 
Wallace told her that one of the major studios was casting a girl of just 
her type and they had called and asked to run a screen test on her. She 
could hardly sleep for days, but she knew that she would have to be in top 
shape, for the cameras show every little flaw, every error and she had to be 
perfect. Perfect! 

She rehearsed her lines for hours each day until she was sure she knew them 
without faltering, and on the day of the test, Mr. Wallace picked her up and 
escorted her to the studio. Everyone at the gate seemed to know him and he 
waved and nodded at various people around the lot calling them by name. 

She was impressed, but nervous and she wdndered what the producer would be 
like she had to audition for. She hoped that he was not another fat, 
balding, horny man that would pinch her, stare through her clothes and 
finally tell her that she would have to go to bed with him before they would 
consider her. She wasn't sure she could go through another experience like 
the others had been. 

Mr. Wallace directed her through a maze of corridors and finally to the end 
of a long hallway and knocked on the door. 

"Grant, are you in there?" he called. "I'm here with your new star!" 

She could hear a voice chuckling from inside and answering, "Come on in, 
Paul. You too, Miss New Star, let's have a look at you." 

The man who was standing sideways bending over a chair polishing his shoes 
was Grant Roberts, the producer of the film she was to test for. He also did 
most of the directing and casting, but his official title was that of a 
producer. He looked up as they came in and gave her an appraising, 
forthright look. 

"You are lovely, Jennifer," he said, "I don't think all your pictures do you 
justice." 

She blushed and smiled at him. "Thank you, Mr. Roberts," she said. 

"No, my name is Grant to my friends and I hope we're going to be friends." 

She wondered what he meant by that, but her outlook had become rather 
cynical whenever anyone began like they wanted to be friends, that she 
almost laughed out loud. It was such a polite, simple statement, and her 
mind was already running in and out of the bedroom! 

She studied Grant Roberts as he polished his shoes. He had a medium build, 
not very muscular, but his suit was well tailored and obviously very 
expensive, his shoes were alligator with slightly pointed toes, but somehow 
didn't look effeminate; in fact he looked very stylish, very smart. He 
caught her looking at him and smiled, "You approve," he said. 

"I'm sorry, I guess I was staring," she said, embarrassed. "I didn't mean to 
be rude." 

"That's quite all right. In fact, I find it rather flattering. It's been a 
long time since a young girl as attractive as you has even noticed that I 
exist." He laughed cheerfully and asked Paul Wallace what was new in his end 
of the industry. 

"Now I know why we producers never get to see any of the new, lovely talent, 
you agents keep them hidden out of our reach until the right moment. It 
seems like such a shame," he kidded, winking at Jennifer. 

Jennifer took a seat and for the first time in days began to relax. Grant 
Roberts had such as easy air about him, so much self-assurance, such polish 
that she couldn't feel uncomfortable. 

She judged that he was about forty-five, but the wrinkles around his eyes 
may have been premature from the hours and hard work of Hollywood. She knew 
that he had been out here for years and was well established and that always 
took its toll. He seemed to be a gentle sort of person in comparison to the 
other hard, calloused men she had met. This man didn't appear to want 
anything from her but her acting talent. 

It was almost a pity, she thought to herself, for here was a man that she 
wouldn't mind having an affair with, in fact, she'd probably enjoy it. 

"Are you ready for your screen test?" he asked her. "I don't want you to be 
nervous. I know it's easy to say, but honestly, all we look for in something 
like this is how you come across on movie film. The speaking part, the voice 
we can always work with later if we find we have someone who photographs and 
projects well." 

She nodded and told him that she would do her best and she hoped that he 
wouldn't be disappointed. 

"Are you going to stick around for lunch, Paul," Grant asked him. "I'll 
buy." 

"Sorry, I can't this morning, but why don't you take Jennifer, she doesn't 
have any more appointments after this one. Thought I'd let her rest for a 
day!" 

"You're one step ahead of me. I was going to suggest that myself. Will you 
go?" he said turning to her. 

"I'd love to, but maybe you'll change your mind after you see the film 
clips." 

"I doubt that, and besides, I love gorgeous, lively company for my meals and 
I refuse to take no for an answer." 

She laughed and told him she would be delighted. She had never met anyone in 
his position with such a good nature and sense of humor. His eyes seemed to 
sparkle when he smiled and she found herself strangely attracted to him. 

Mr. Wallce left and Grant showed her to the make-up room where they would 
have one of the studio cosmeticians put the finishing touches on her make-up 
and then bring her onto the sound stage. 

She was ready in about fifteen minutes and her heart was in her stomach as 
she walled on the stage. She had to do a scene by herself, pretending that 
she was trying to communicate with someone, someone she loved, but she was 
afraid to go to them in person. It was a very tender scene and her face had 
an angelic sereneness that had not come through in her other pictures. They 
were testing her this way so that they could determine her versatility. 

Grant Roberts watched almost in awe as Jennifer went through the scene. She 
seemed to project an innocence that had a strangely exciting, animalistic 
appeal. She read her lines smoothly, selfassuredly and he thought that she 
would be the biggest new star to come along in that decade. 

When she finished, she turned to him and said, "Well, how did I do?" 

"You were marvelous, honey," he answered, "I'm sure that the test will be a 
huge success, so don't worry about it. Ready for lunch?" 

His casual attitude made her a little nervous, but he seemed to be so sure 
of her success that she decided that she'd relax and enjoy his company even 
if she didn't get the part. 

He took her to a small restaurant a few blocks from the studio and he told 
her what he thought of her potential as a star while they casually sipped 
martinis. His eyes met hers in a frank, honest gaze while he spoke and she 
found this rather unnerving. She had never dealt with a man quite like him 
and she wasn't sure what she should do or say. He hadn't propositioned her 
like the other producers she had come in contact with, he seemed so much 
more of a gentleman and soon she found herself telling him about the 
problems she had had getting an agent, getting calls and how she was just 
becoming discouraged when he had called Mr. Wallace. 

"Paul has been a friend of mine for years," he said. "When he said that 
you'd be perfect for the part, I knew that I had a winner. He's never let me 
down." 

She felt as though she wanted to throw her arms around him, kiss him and 
love him. She felt a tenderness for him that she had never felt for anyone 
before and it excited her. She new that he found her attractive because 
although his eyes were cool, the expression on his face let her know that he 
had noticed her as a woman, as well as an actress. They ordered second 
martinis and then thirds and her head was very light by the time their lunch 
arrived. 

"I don't know how I can thank you," she said coyly, as she nibbled at the 
salad in front of her. "You've done so much to help me must by talking to 
me, giving me the opportunity to finally make it big, it's all so 
marvelous." 

She was hoping that he would suggest a date for later on in the week, or 
even that night, but he didn't seem to take her bait, so she ate the rest of 
her lunch in silence, hoping that he would say something. 

They sat there for several hours and talked before he finally said, "I had 
better get back to the studio and take a look at the prints of your test. 
I'll call Paul in the morning and let him know how they turned out, but 
don't you worry, I'm sure it will be fine." 

"I won't be able to sleep all night," she sighed, "I'll be too nervous 
waiting to hear myself !" 

He smiled at her, patted her hand gently and excused himself and left the 
restaurant. She sat there for a while longer sipping her coffee and 
wondering how she would be able to get him to ask her out. For the first 
time in her life she wasn't sure how to handle a man! 

By noon the next day she couldn't wait any longer so she called Paul 
Wallace's office but lie was out. The suspense was gnawing at her nerves and 
she thought that she would faint from the sheer waiting, so hesitantly she 
dialed the number of the film studio and asked for Grant Roberts. 

"Hello Jennifer," his voice said cheerily. "I was just trying to reach you." 

"Oh," she said. "Well, I just tried to call Paul., but he's out and I can't 
stand the suspense anymore. How'd I do?" 

He laughed and said, "You came through with flying colors. We're getting the 
script to you as soon as possible and we should be ready to go into 
rehearsals in about five weeks." 

Her heart was beating so fast that she could hardly speak, and she didn't 
know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. 

"Are you still there," he asked, still chuckling. "You haven't fainted or 
something?" 

"No ... no, I'm here, I'm just fine. In fact, I've never been better in my 
whole life." 

"Well then how about celebrating with me tonight. Do you have any other 
plans?" 

"Absolutely none," she said, not believing this additional good luck. "I'd 
love to celebrate with you. 

"Good. I'll pick you up about eight so get dressed in your very best. This 
is going to be a night to remember." 

She hung the receiver up and stood there for several minutes letting it all 
sink in. Somehow this one break had made everything right again, justified 
every man she had had to sleep with, let paw her, humiliate her. She was 
going to make it and there was nothing in her way now! 

She could hardly wait for eight o'clock and she took extra care in getting 
ready. She was just smoothing out the last folds in her tight-fitting skirt 
when her phone rang and he told her that he was waiting for her in the 
lobby. Her knees were shaking as she walked to the elevator and she nearly 
stumbled head first into the car. She couldn't understand why she should 
feel so unsure of herself now, why this one man had this affect on her, but 
she did know that he was going to be something very special to her. 

"You're more beautiful than ever," he said as she walked across the lobby to 
meet him. "You're so beautiful!" 

The evening seemed to fly by, the dinner, the champagne, the dancing. He had 
held her close, verv close while they were dancing, his hips pressed tightly 
against her and she wondered whether he would be her lover that night, but 
he said nothing. She didn't know what to say to let him know that she wanted 
him to make love to her, what she could do to show him that she wanted him. 

It was early in the morning when he took her back to the hotel. He didn't 
ask to come up to her room and she didn't feel that she could invite him 
without being obvious, so she resigned herself to the fact that he just 
wanted to be her friend, yet it made her feel very unattractive and 
undesirable. 

"We're going to be seeing a lot of each other," he said kissing her lightly 
on the lips. "So get a good night's sleep and be fresh and ready in the 
afternoon, we have the script to go over." 

She felt a great disappointment in the bottom of her stomach as she climbed 
the stairs to her room, not bothering to take the elevator. She couldn't 
understand why he hadn't even tried to get her into bed, it just didn't make 
sense. Of all the men she hadn't wanted to go to bed with, that was the 
first thing on their mind, but now that she had found someone that she could 
care for, he didn't seem to be interested. She decided that she would just 
play it cool and see what would happen. 

They worked together every day in rehearsals and saw each other for dinner 
or drinks several times a week, but it still didn't seem as though their 
relationship was getting anywhere. Her nerves were shattered and she began 
to find it difficult to work, she couldn't concentrate and it was showing in 
her acting. 

"What's the matter with you, baby," he asked her one day. "You just aren't 
the same." 

"I can't explain it, Grant," she murmured, "I don't think you'd understnad." 

"I'd understand," he said seriously, "I love you." 

"You what!" she gasped. 

"I love you," he repeated, "and I'd like to marry you." 

She couldn't believe her ears, it didn't make any sense. She couldn't 
understand how he could act the way he did and still be in love with her, 
but he had said he was and that was all that mattered. 

"You really mean it," she said, tears of hope and joy streaming down her 
face. 

He held her close and whispered, "Of course I mean it, and I want to get 
married right away ... this week." 

"Oh yes, darling," she said, "I want to marry you too. 

She floated through the rest of the day, barely able to concentrate on her 
lines, thinking only that he loved her and was going to marry her. It didn't 
seem possible that so many good things could happen to her all at once and 
she was afraid that she would wake up and find that she'd been dreaming. 

When she got back to her hotel that night there was a letter there from her 
father. It had been so long since she had heard from him and in fact, she 
wasn't even sure where he was, but the letter was postmarked from Nice and 
said that he had been filming there. He told her that he had heard of her 
success and that he was very proud of her and she should keep up the hard 
work. Nothing could have made her perfect day more perfect than that letter 
and it had arrived at just the right time. 

They were married in a quiet civil ceremony later that week and decided to 
go to Paris for a week's honeymoon. She had never been to Paris, but she was 
sure that it would be just perfect with Grant there. He had been there 
before several times on business and would be able to show her the city 
first hand. They boarded the Pan American jet just an hour after they were 
married so that they would be able to spend their first night together in 
Paris. She could hardly wait to have him make love to her, hold her, kiss 
her, and she kept shuffling her feet nervously throughout the entire flight. 

"Oh darling," she whispered to him. "I want you so much. It's so hard to 
wait." 

He kissed her cheek softly and smiled down at her. 

"It's only a few more hours, my love," he said tenderly. 

It was almost dawn when they landed at Orly Airport and the sky was clouded 
and grey. The dampness in the air was chilling and she huddled closer to 
Grant in the taxi as it made its way through the narrow streets to the hotel 
where they were to stay. 

"It's not very cheery now, is it?" she asked. "It's so damp." 

"Paris is usually damp, love," he said. "But it is a romantic city and I 
know you're going to love it." 

"I'd love being anywhere with you," she murmured. 

The cab pulled up in front of the Plaza Athenee and the driver helped Grant 
with the luggage. It didn't take long before they were settled in their room 
and she went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. She wondered what kind 
of a lover her husband would be because he had always been so tender and 
compassionate. She lowered the straps of her negligee, a white lace gown 
that fell in a low curve around her full, round breasts, so that the 
voluptuous bulge of the soft, white mounds was fully visible. 

He had told her to get undressed first while he unpacked, using the excuse 
that it always took women longer in the bath than men. Her hair hung loosely 
around her shoulders and glistened like spun sand. She looked at herself in 
the mirror and she knew that she had probably never looked more beautiful. 
Her cheeks had a fresh glow regardless of the many hours she had been 
without sleep, her eyes sparkled and her skin was like a white satin 
cushion, soft and pliable. 

When she walked into the room Grant was still dressed and toying with 
unpacking the suitcase. 

"I'll be with you in a minute, darling," he told her, and walked into the 
bathroom. 

She turned down the covers of the bed and got in, wondering why he didn't 
seem as anxious as she, as she lay there waiting for him to join her. She 
turned down the lights to a bare glow and closed her eyes. She could hardly 
believe that so much had happened to her since she had been in Hollywood; 
she had become a well-known starlet, fallen in love with a famous producer 
and was married to him, there was no stopping her now. 

It seemed an eternity before he opened the bathroom door and came into the 
room. He turned off the lights and crawled into bed next to her, reaching 
out and pulling her close to him. 

"Oh darling," she whispered softly, stroking his strong, hairy chest. "I've 
waited so long for you to hold me like this." 

He kissed her deeply, his tongue darting between her teeth and deep into her 
throat as he rubbed his body next to hers, his bands running over her 
breasts, the narrowness of her waist and the soft roundness of her hips. She 
pushed closer to him, grasping him, holding onto him with an animalistic, 
desperate need. 

She could feel the strength of his body, his muscular build, but the 
hardness between his loins wasn't there and she was confused. She ran her 
hands over his hips and fondled his limp organ tenderly, trying to raise it 
to its full length and hardness, but no matter how hard she tried he was 
riot responding. 

"What's the matter, darling," she almost begged, her body on fire with a 
heated desire that needed to be satisfied, a craving that had to be sated. 

"I guess I'm a bit tired after all the excitement," he answered lamely and 
pushed the covers down around his ankles and got out of bed. 

"Don't leave me now," she cried, "please ... don't leave." 

"I'll be back in just a minute, darling," he said, his tone a little annoyed 
and he walked back into the bathroom. 

She lay there confused, hurt and tearful, as she waited for him to come back 
to her and consummate their marriage. 

The room was dark when she heard him close the bathroom door and come back 
to the side of the bed. 

"Here I am, my love," he said, pulling the covers up over his body once 
again and reaching out for her. 

"Oh yes," she moaned, circling her hands around his waist and pulling him 
toward her once again. 

His manner was more confident now as his nands kneaded the soft, smoothness 
of her buttocks and he searched for the juncture between her legs, 
separating the tiny, pink lips of her ach ing vagina and teasing the nub of 
her clitoris until she thought she would go out of her mind. 

"Take me, darling," she groaned, pressing tier hips against his and urging 
him on top of her. Her hands reached for the fleshiness of his maleness once 
again, then stopped suddenly. 

"W-w-what," she gasped. 

"Sssshhhh, darling," he tried to comfort tier. "I just need some help 
tonight, and I know I can make you happy, happier than you've ever been." 

"But I don't understand," she gasped, knowing that what she had touched was 
not his body at all, but a hard rubber and elastic organ ... a dildo! She 
thought back to her days in the dormitory and she knew what it was, but she 
couldn't believe it. 

"Don't you want me," she asked, tears of frustration running down her face. 

"Of course I do," he said, "but I'm just too tired tonight." 

She wanted him . . wanted him desperately, not some artificial implement. 
She wanted her husband! 

His hands were busy manipulating between her legs until she thought she 
would scream, but it was just too humiliating to have her own husband have 
to use something false to satisfy her, it was too degrading. 

"Don't you love me, don't you want me," she begged him again, her whole 
being consumed with agony and desire, tortured beyond the point of return. 

"Relax, baby," he said, but his voice had become more harsh, almost 
sadistic. "I've got something that will make all the other men you've known 
look like children. You'll never want it any other way!" 

"No," she screamed hysterically. "I can't take it." 

"You'll take it, baby, and love it," he said, angling his hips on top of her 
body and probing at her vaginal opening with the hard rubber instrument. She 
could feel the hardness of the rubber pressing between her thighs and she 
tried to squeeze them closer together in order to prevent this mechanical 
rape, but it was useless. 

He seemed to be getting more excited the more she fought to prevent his 
entry and she couldn't believe that the tender, sensitive man that she had 
fallen in love with could possibly be capable of humiliating her like this. 

"It can't be true," she murmured to herself. "It can't be true." 

"It's true ... believe me, it's true," he challenged her. "And you're mine, 
all mine, YOU; the famous body of the world and you're all mine!" He laughed 
cruelly as he spoke, and she could feel her nails digging into the solid 
flesh of his back in an effort to deter him. 

"Open up for your daddy," he said, "I'm going to have you... NOW!" 

He forced his entire weight down on her, splitting her thighs to a 
forty-five degree angle so that she lay helpless beneath him. His hands 
crushed her ample breasts, pinching the nipples cruelly, bruising them and 
his teeth bit harshly into her neck, then her mouth, nibbling at her lips 
arid tongue. 

"Ooooohhhhh," she groaned, no longer able to contain her own building 
passion. "My God, I want you so badly!" 

"Spread your legs, spread your legs wider ... wider," he ordered her, his 
hands and fingers taking every ounce of will power from her body. 

She could feel her body go limp, helpless, aching with desire as he inched 
his hips up higher between her legs and the rubber phallus probed once again 
at her hot, vulnerable pussy. The thickness of the head of his false prick 
pushed her moist, pink lips apart and eased itself into her waiting channel. 

"Aaaggggghhhh," she rasped as she felt the massiveness of the organ force 
itself between her wid ., spread legs. "Stop ... it hurts! 

"Never had a man like this," he choked out, his saliva dripping from his 
cruelly twisted mouth onto her luscious breasts, "and you'll never want 
another one!" 

She knew that she should protest, fight him, make him stop, but her need was 
too great and she had to be satisfied, she had to cum! 

"Oh God," she whimpered, "Fuck me ... for God's sake, fuck me!" 

"Beg me, you little whore," he shouted at her, "that's all you are ... 
that's all any woman is ... a whore!" 

She didn't want to believe that this was her husband who was saying these 
things to her, the man she had thought would be so kind, so protective, so 
loving. It didn't seem possible that he too could be a depraved monster, a 
deviate, a maniac, but it no longer mattered. The only thing that mattered 
was that she would reach her climax, then she would think about what she 
should do. 

"Yes ... yes," she pleaded, "Give it to me ... give it to me!" 

She had forgotten that it was not her husband that would be making her reach 
her climax, that it was just a piece of machinery, a hard rubber prick, it 
was long and thick and it was filling her desperate need. 

He pushed into her violently, stretching the walls of her moist, denied 
vagina, tearing at the sensitive lining and punishing her with his harsh 
cruelness. 

"You're hurting me," she gasped, "Easy ... easy ... please!" 

"You've had enough men... now you're having me," he answered her coldly, not 
easing on the constant, painful drubbing he was giving her. She could feel 
the entire length of the dildo as it tore into her, killing her with its 
hardness and thickness. She had never felt anything so huge or stonelike in 
her life, she had never been so torn apart before. She tried to relax her 
muscles, but each time he renewed his effort and increased his stroke she 
thought that she would lose consciousness. 

"You're mine ... you're mine," he whispered thickly against her throat, 
"you'll never belong to anyone else." 

She felt as though she were being impaled on a stake, skewered like a 
suckling pig for a barbeque and she bit her lips until she could taste the 
salt of her own blood ooze from her mouth. 

He gripped her buttocks in his hands and pulled her soft, velvet hips up 
from the mattress so that he could increase his leverage and drive the 
punishing spike even further into her. She felt the thickness of his fingers 
pull apart her buttock cheeks and run up and down her back crevice, prodding 
for the tight elastic hole of her anus. 

"Aaaaggggggh, uuugggggghhhhhh," she groaned as he pushed one finger into the 
tiny opening, the skin giving way from his pressure until he was inside her 
to his first knuckle. 

"God ... god ... nooooooo," she screamed as she was being torn apart from 
both of her openings. His finger worked furiously at her backside as he 
yanked her up on his never yielding ramrod of rubber. It tore into her 
cervix, scraping and tearing it apart with every stroke. 

She knew that it wouldn't be long before she would faint from the pain, but 
her body began to react to this horrible rape, she couldn't help herself. 
She was beyond hope, beyond helping herself as she found herself bucking her 
hips wildly beneath him. 

"Yes ... yes . . fuck me... fuck me ... do it," she gasped, knowing that she 
would die from frustration if he were to stop. 

"That's it, baby," he chuckled, "Tell your daddy what to do. You love it ... 
tell me you love it!" 

"Yes ... yes, I love it ... I want it," she replied as he lashed into her 
aching body. 

She was on the brink of her climax and she could feel the muscles of her 
vaginal wall contract and expand around the monstrous dildo: The hugeness of 
the instrument and his steady strokes did not give her a chance to relax or 
think about anything else but her impending climax. 

"There ... there, that's it," she groaned as she felt the lining of her cunt 
begin to quiver and the juices of her loins begin to flow over his hard, 
rubber tool. 

"Cum ... cum ... you bitch," he cried, "cum for me!" 

"I'm cumming ... I'M CUMMING... .I'm cum ming," and her voice diminished 
into a soft whisper as she felt the last of her contractions halt slowly 
around the mighty, rock-hard phallus. 

Her body began to shake convulsively, sobs of humiliation wracking her body, 
but he didn't seem to notice and kept pounding further and further into her. 
The volcano within her had exploded and would quickly run dry, but he had 
not punished her enough. 

"Stop ... please stop," she begged him, but he just laughed and kept pushing 
his plastic cock into her, hurting her, degrading her. 

"He never quits ... " he gasped, throwing all of his weight onto her for one 
final, cutting stab, the pain ripping through her loins and belly. He rocked 
back and forth on her for several more minutes until he too became tired, 
then rolled over on his side of the bed, a sadistic, cruel grin on his face. 

"Why didn't you tell me," she asked him, her body quivering from the pain 
and her crying. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't a real man!" 

His hand lashed out and struck her across the face, bringing on a new flood 
of tears. 

"That's more of a man than you've ever had," he spit at her, "and you're 
going to learn to like it!" 

"How can you do this to me ... don't you love me?" she asked again, still 
not able to face the cold reality of the situation. She couldn't believe 
that he was impotent! 

"You wouldn't have married me," he answered her matter-of-factly, "and I had 
to have you." 

"You're sick," she screamed at him. "You're a sick monster!" 

"Call me what you like, my dear wife, but just remember that you are my 
wife, and I am your husband!" 

She turned her back to him and sobbed uncontrollably into her pillow. It 
didn't seem real, it was too fantastic, too incredible. 

"Look at it this way, my love," lie continued, "you've just guaranteed your 
career when you married me, so there is a good side. Besides, you may even 
learn to fall in love with my little toy after awhile. You can never tell." 

"Never ... never," she vowed to herself as she cried herself to sleep. 

He lay back on his pillow, a smile of satisfaction on his face and reached 
out and touched her shoulder lightly, "My beautiful baby.. . my own." 

The next morning she got up before he did and took a long, hot bath. She had 
to feel clean again, to feel like a woman again. She sat and thought about 
the events that had led up to her marriage and she wondered how she could 
have possibly been so naive as to think that he was just a gentleman when he 
refused to go to bed with her before they were married. At the time she 
thought that he was so gallant, so sincere ... if she had only known, but 
that didn't alter the fact that she had fallen in love with him and that 
would not be so easy to forget. 

She decided that she would try to talk to him once again, maybe ask him to 
get some help, ask him if she could help him. She couldn't bear to see their 
marriage go down without trying something ... anything. 

She wrapped a terry cloth robe around her shoulders and fastened it 
securely, then tiptoed back to the bed where he was still sleeping. She 
shook him gently, leaned down and kissed him. The dildo was still strapped 
to his waist and it looked even more forbidding, more horrible in the broad 
daylight, so she turned her eyes away. 

"Darling," she whispered, "darling, it's time to get up." 

"Good morning, love," he said. "You're bright and early." 

He looked down at the instrument that vas bound to him and then up at her. 
It looked so ridiculous strapped onto his sturdy, muscular body, but it 
didn't seem to bother him. 

"I'd like to talk to you," she said weakly. "Will you get up so we can have 
some lunch, it's after eleven and I'm starved." 

"Certainly, darling," he said, hopping out of bed and walking to the 
bathroom, the thick, long dildo bobbing up and down as he walked. 

"Oh God," she said to herself, "What am I going to do?" 

It didn't take him long to shower and shave and dress and he looked like a 
Greek god as he adjusted the ascot around his throat and kissed her swiftly, 
but tenderly on the mouth. 

"I didn't mean to frighten you, my dear, but I'm afraid you'll just have to 
live with me the way I am, because I will never divorce you, I love you too 
much." 

She almost found this difficult to believe, but she smiled at him the best 
she could and followed him to the elevator and rode down to the lobby in 
silence. 

"Why don't we have lunch at a tiny little cafe I know of about three blocks 
from here. The Paris air may give you a different look on life." 

"That sounds marvelous, darling," she said, taking his arm and walking out 
into the cool sunshine. 

"See, the sun does shine here sometimes," he said laughing down at her. 

They seated themselves at a table in one corner of the cafe and ordered 
coffee and pastry. She didn't know where she should begin or how she should 
broach the subject of last night, but she knew that the air had to be 
cleared or she could not go on. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to go 
on, but she had to make this one last attempt. 

"How long have you been like this," she asked hesitantly. 

"Like what," he answered, knowing full well what she meant, but trying to 
humiliate her into saying it herself. 

"Impotent," she whispered. 

"As long as I can remember," he said cooly. "I've desired women, but I've 
never really had one." 

"Never!" she said, the look of shock obvious on her face. 

"Never," he said, sipping his coffee as if it were the most natural thing in 
the world. 

"Is there some medical reason," she asked hopefully. "Maybe you could see a 
doctor." 

"Not interested really," he went on. "I like doing things my way, the way 
I've always done them." 

She felt her heart sinking into her stomach. She couldn't talk to him, he 
wasn't interested in changing things and she knew no matter what she said or 
how much she begged him, that he would never listen to her. 

"But we can't go on through our whole lives like this," she pleaded, "it's 
just not fair, it's not normal." 

"Who's to say what's normal," he chided, "besides I like it, and you can't 
say that I didn't satisfy you now, can you?" 

"No ... no," she stammered, blushing furiously remembering how her body had 
reacted to his false penis. 

"Well then, there's nothing more to discuss, is there?" 

She could tell by the tone in his voice that he considered the conversation 
ended. 

She gazed around the cafe hoping that she could fix her eyes on something so 
she wouldn't have to look at him. She felt so defeated, so degraded and the 
thought of going through her life making love to some rubber prick was more 
than she could bear. 

She was staring without realizing it and a few minutes later a young man 
came up to their table. 

"I beg your pardon," he said with a slight French accent, "but you look so 
familiar, do I know you? I saw you looking at me and I thought that maybe 
you knew me too." 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I didn't realize that I was staring," 
she said embarrassed, because she hadn't even noticed the man, she had had 
her mind so far away, she wasn't aware that she was even looking at 
anything, much less anyone. 

"That's perfectly all right, young man," Grant said, "This is my wife, 
Jennifer Rhodes, and I'm Grant Roberts. She uses her maiden name 
professionally and maybe that's why she looks familiar." 

"Of course," he said, surprised. "You're the new film star that everyone is 
so excited about. I must say that you are much prettier in person." 

"Thank you," she stammered, as her husband motioned to the waiter to bring 
another chair. 

"I'm Dan Tobin. I'm studying here in Paris for a few years before I go back 
to the States, I want to be an artist." 

"Admirable," Grant said. "The world can always use more beauty. I hope you 
succeed with your endeavors. " 

"May I offer you two people a drink ... so, sherry, cognac, anything?" the 
young man said, snapping his fingers for the waiter. 

"I think I'd like a cognac," Grant said, "One for you darling?" 

She nodded and he told the waiter to bring three drinks. The three of them 
sat there for most of the afternoon sipping their brandies and talking about 
what life was like in the States these days and 1-:e, in turn, told them 
what was new and exciting A'0. Paris. 

Jennifer just sat there not contributing to the conversation, but found 
herself completely, enthralled with the young man's bohemian, f(jrward 
manner. He had made it obvious that be thought she was the most beautiful 
woman he had ever seen and from time to time he would let his knee brush 
against hers underneath the table. It was reassuring to know that her last 
night's experience didn't show, at least outwardly, and she wished that she 
were not married and that she could have a real man, like him, to make love 
to her. 

It didn't seem to bother her husband that the young man was obviously 
infatuated with her and found it a great honor to be with them; in fact, she 
thought that he was almost encouraging their being friends. 

"My wife has never been to Paris," Grant said. "I've been here on business 
many times so it's not new to me. Perhaps you'd like to show her some of the 
newer sights while we're here. I do have some things that I will have to 
take care of and I would appreciate it." 

She was surprised at his attitude, for she thought that he would never let 
her out of his sight and it didn't seem to fit with what he had said last 
night, but she didn't object. 

"I'd like to show you Paris," he told her, "that is, if it's all right with 
you." 

"That would be just fine. I'd enjoy it," she said, smiling at him, and 
glancing at her husband for his reaction, but there was none except for a 
self-assured smile on his face. 

"Why don't you join us for dinner at our hotel tonight," Grant offered, "You 
can be our guest, and we'd love the company." 

"I'd love to," he said, "I'd love to very much. Thank you for the 
invitation." 

He handed the young man the hotel's card and told him to meet them there 
around seven, then took Jennifer by the arm and told her that they would 
have to go now because he wanted to take a walk before it was time for 
dinner. 

"Good-bye, Dan," she called back at him, smiling warmly, "We'll see you 
tonight." 

He smiled back at her and winked and she wondered if he was thinking the 
same thing that she was. It certainly was going to be a very interesting 
honeymoon! 

They walked down to the Champs Elysee and stopped at several of the shops to 
look at the art, the books and buy some postcards to send back to Hollywood. 
She could feel the magic in the air now, but it wasn't because she was a new 
bride, it was because of the young man and her anticipation of what was to 
happen. 

"He was a very charming man," her husband said finally. "Seems to be bright, 
too." 

"Yes, he does," she said simply, "and very handsome." 

"I'm sure he'll show you a good time while we're here, darling. I hope you 
didn't mind my asking him, but there will be a few days when I will have to 
take care of some business and I wouldn't want you to get bored." 

"No, that was very thoughtful of you," she replied. "I must say that you 
surprised me somewhat, but I am very pleased that you arranged it." 

He smiled at her, but she couldn't read what was going on behind his 
searching eyes, she had no way of knowing. 

It seemed as though they walked for blocks before they finally reached the 
Rue de Montagne and the hotel. 

"I'd like to take a shower before dinner," she said when they reached the 
room. "Why don't you rest and then I can make-up while you're getting 
ready." 

"Wonderful, my love," and he laid down on the bed and closed his eyes for a 
quick nap. 

She let the needle sharp points of water tickle her skin into a rosy glow, 
the coolness cleansing and refreshing her. She still felt a little dizzy 
from all the cognacs, but she was sure that she would feel better after she 
had had something to eat. 

She dried herself with a rough towel, pummicing her skin until it was smooth 
and glowing. She sprayed her cologne generously over her entire body, then 
powdered lavishly. She wanted to look her best for their handsome young 
dinner guest. 

She couldn't help but hum to herself as she laid out her fanciest, sheerest 
lingerie and slipped into her robe so that she could take her time with her 
make-up. 

"Your turn, darling," she called to her husband, waking him so that he could 
get ready too. 

He stumbled into the bathroom, balancing himself on the chair of her bureau 
when he passed. 

"Guess I had more to drink than I thought," he said, "I'll have to watch 
myself." 

"I felt dizzy, too," she said, "but the shower ought to help." 

She applied her eyeliner and mascara, careful not to wear it too heavily, 
because she wanted tea appear as young and fresh as possible. She didn't 
need much anyway and she didn't want to intimidate him, she wanted him to 
think of her as any other girl he might have met in a Paris cafe. She felt a 
little silly getting excited over having a, young man join them for dinner, 
especially since she was supposed to be the blushing bride, but she couldn't 
help it, she was looking forward to it. 

She slipped into her lingerie and was just brushing her hair when her 
husband came out of the shower. 

"You are so beautiful, my dear. No wonder I'm the envy of all the men. I've 
seen their eyes follow you when you were in Hollywood, and now the eyes of 
Paris are admiring you. It's very flattering." 

She knew that he was only flattered for his own ego, that he loved her only 
because she made him look good and not because he was proud of her, but that 
didn't matter now. 

She was ready on the dot of eight when the phone rang and Dan told her that 
he would be waiting in the bar for them. 

"Why don't you go ahead and join him for a drink while I finish getting 
ready," her husband told her. "I'll only be a few more minutes." 

"Okay," she answered, picked up her pocketbook and walked to the elevator. 
Her heart was beating like a girl on her first date and she knew that she 
must be blushing. 

He stood up when she came into the bar and pulled up a seat next to him. His 
eyes were fixed upon the low neckline of her dress and she heard him draw in 
his breath. 

"You look ravishing tonight," he said, his eyes not leaving the cleavage of 
her full, soft breasts. 

She smiled self-consciously, thanked him and ordered a martini. 

"Make that two, he told the waiter and settled back in his seat. "Your 
husband is an interesting man," he continued. "You must love him very much." 
She knew that he was asking a leading question, but she really couldn't say 
anything else but that yes, she did love him, although at times he was hard 
to understand. 

"All artistic people are hard to understand at times," he told her. "I have 
my moments too." 

She hoped that he couldn't tell that she was nervous, but she found it 
difficult to talk with him, she didn't know what to say, how to act. She 
knew that he wanted her, his eyes told her that, and she didn't know how to 
let him know that she would like the same thing. 

They were just finishing their first drink when her husband joined them at 
the table. 

"We're one ahead of you," Dan said lightly, "so why don't you have a 
double?" 

"Sounds great," he answered, and they ordered the second round. They 
finished their drinks then told the maitre 'd that they were ready to be 
seated for dinner. Jennifer had never seen a restaurant so elegant, so 
formal and plush. All the waiters were dressed in red dinner jackets and 
walked among the tables quickly and quietly making sure that everyone was 
seated, had their order taken and had everything that they needed. The 
service was superb and made the meal relaxing and enjoyable. They ordered 
the specialty of the house which was highly seasoned, so they managed to 
finish two bottles of a dry red wine while they were eating. Her head felt 
light, but she had never enjoyed such luxury before. Her husband's head 
began to nod as they were finishing their desert and the waiter brought 
their brandy. 

"Do you feel all right, Grant?" she asked. 

"Just a bit too much of the grape, I'm afraid. Wine always makes me sleepy." 

"Do you want to go upstairs?" she asked, hoping that he would say that he 
would be fine, but he didn't. 

"Why don't we have our after dinner drinks in the room," he suggested. "Do 
you mind, Dan?" 

"No, no, not at all. I can go if you would prefer to turn in, I know it's 
been a long day." 

"No, that's perfectly all right, you're more than welcome to come up, isn't 
he, dear," he said, turning to Jennifer. 

"Why yes, of course," she said, glad that he had taken that choice rather 
than excusing himself. 

He paid the bill and they all went up to their suite to relax over their 
brandies and coffee. She had never seen Grant this way before, even when 
they had been at Hollywood parties. He had always prided himself on being 
able to hold his liquor and had constantly warned her not to drink too much, 
so this was completely out of character. She wondered if she were finding 
out another new aspect of his personality that hadn't shown through before 
their marriage. 

She sat down next to Dan on the couch and he began to tell her about all the 
places, the museums, theatres, monuments that he would be showing her and 
gave some of their background so that she would know what to look for when 
they finally took their tour. Grant was seated in a large, comfortable chair 
across from them, but after he drank the last of his coffee he announced 
that he was; afraid that he was drunk and was going to bed. 

"I'd better leave," Dan said, starting to rise. 

"No ... no, stay, I'm sure Jenny isn't tired and this is her first real 
night in Paris, so please stay as long as you like." 

Jennifer looked at him, back at Dan and then at him again. She didn't know 
what to say, it was as though he were purposely throwing them together, as 
though he were testing her. 

Dan sat down again next to her and waited until he heard the bedroom door 
close and the water running the bathroom before he spoke. 

"I'm glad he left us alone. I've wanted to be alone with you since I first 
saw you." 

"You musn't say that," she interrupted him. "I'm married." 

"I know you're married, but your looks tell me something different." 

He moved closer to her on the couch and put his arm in back of her, tickling 
her shoulder lightly, teasingly, and she quivered from nervousness. 

"You mustn't," she said, trying to look him directly in the eyes, but she 
knew that she didn't sound convincing, because she didn't want to stop him, 
but she was afraid that her husband would hear them. 

"You don't mean that," he said hoarsely and pulled her roughly towards him 
and kissed her soundly, deeply on her full, moist mouth. 

"Ooooohhhhh," she sighed, letting her body collapse against his willingly, 
abandonly. 

"Turn out the light," he whispered to her and she reached over and flicked 
the switch on the lamp. Only a thin stream of light shown through the crack 
in the door that led to the hall and she got up for a moment, pulling 
herself away from his embrace and stood by her husband's door. She could 
hear the soft wheez of his snoring and she returned to the couch. 

"Come here," he said softly, and she immediately fell back into his arms. 

"You're so soft, so beautiful," he murmured in her ear, brushing her hair 
away from her face and kissing her again, this time with more urgency. Their 
tongues met and flicked in and out of each other's mouths, searching, 
rubbing passionately. 

She could feel his hands find the zipper of her dress and slowly, quietly 
ease it down until he could pull it from her shoulders, revealing the full, 
swelling rise of her breasts above her brassiere and the silky, smoothness 
of her shoulders and arms, 

"My darling," he whispered, "I need you so badly." 

She knew that she had to be crazy to let this young man make love to her 
with her husband right in the next room, but she longed to feel a man inside 
of her again, a real man, real flesh, not a substitute of hard rubberl His 
arms encircled her and he cupped her breasts in his hands, tweaking gently 
at the nipples and forcing them into erectness, 

"Mmmmmmmmm," she groaned, the tenseness already building between her legs as 
she felt herself succumbing to her desires. 

"Take your dress off," he ordered her gently, and let her go for just a 
moment so that she could let it slip onto the floor. Her sheer, scanty 
underwear did little to conceal any of her body and he gasped audibly as she 
stood before him in just her stockings, garter belt, tiny bikini panties and 
her brassiere. Her legs were trembling with excitement as he pulled her to 
him and began kissing the exposed flesh of her midriff and stomach. 

She could feel the hardness of his penis beneath his trousers and she closed 
her hand over the huge, throbbing lump and massaged it gently. 

"Oh yes, ... yes," he said. "It belongs to you." 

"I want you," she answered, moving her body down further on the couch so 
that he could lean over her. .. 

His hands reached down and unclasped the hook of her brassiere and he pulled 
it away from her body, letting her ripe, cushiony mounds spring into his 
view. He closed his mouth over one breast and sucked harshly on the nipple 
until she was wriggling wildly under him and biting her lips to keep from 
crying out. 

They caressed one another, running their fingers over each other like they 
were blind and trying to indent the impression of each others bodies on 
their hands. 

"Take o$ your pants, darling," she implored him after she found that she 
could not easily manipulate the zipper of his fly. She wanted to hold his 
hardened cock in her hand, massage it, knead it until he thought he would 
burst. He got up from the couch for just a moment and stripped quickly, 
leaving all his clothes on a heap on the floor, then fell on top of her on 
the couch. His experienced fingers quickly undid the stays of her garters 
and her stockings slid down her long, slender legs and onto the cushion so 
that the only thing covering her body was her sheer, black panties. His 
fingers quickly slid beneath the tight elastic until he could feel the soft 
down of her pubic hair, the moistness of her swollen, aching vaginal lips 
and thin slit of her soft cuntal opening. His thumb pressed against the 
fleshy, knob of her clitoris and rubbed it into immediate erectness, until 
she writhed and wiggled, pushing her hips up solidly against his. 

"Ooooohhhhh yes ... yes ... yes," she cried softly until his mouth crushed 
down on hers and his tongue slipped between her teeth and deep into her 
throat as though he were trying to swallow her. He rolled his head on hers, 
back and forth, bringing moans of ecstasy from her slightly parted lips. She 
couldn't control herself, his love-making seemed so natural, so right and 
she wanted hire more than anything in the world at that moment. 

She could feel the heat of his throbbing penis eon. her thighs and the 
jerking against her flimsy pa:)ties as his fingers dug quickly into the 
opening between her legs. His nails scraped lightly on the sensitive, wet 
lining of her vagina as she tried to force him deeper and deeper into her. 
He felt as though he were one giant penis, a mighty phalli u who had the 
most beautiful woman in the world. 1. beneath him, waiting for him to enter 
her. 

He ripped anxiously at her thin panties, tearing them from her soft, rounded 
buttocks in two pieces and he moved his hips up on hers until she coup' feel 
his thick, long, hard prick probing between her legs. She raised her knees 
slightly anal pulled him savagely down on her. 

"Fuck me ... fuck me," she begged. "Please . . please ... now ... .ow!" 

He angled himself and let his penis tease the hungry, vulnerable opening, 
rubbing it up and down over her. clitoris. His hands crushed her breasts, 
squeezing them cruelly like they were made of rubber, pushing her further 
and further into the cushions of the couch. He kissed her neck, her 
shoulders, then ran his hands down until they almost encircled her narrow 
waist. 

"Please ... please," she groaned, but he was not ready yet, he wanted her to 
be totally consumed in her passion when he took her. 

He moved backwards on the couch, raising up on his knees so that he could 
run his tongue down the line between her breasts, over her belly and tickle 
the smooth flesh of her inner thighs. 

"Uuuuuuuhhhhhh," she gasped as his face moved between her legs and he forced 
her one leg back over the top of the sofa, spreading her loins wide apart. 
He mouthed and licked her soft, sensitive, pussy like a hungry maniac, 
sucking harshly on the erect, pink clitoris, flicking it wildly back and 
forth. 

"Dan ... Dan," she choked out, "Oooohhhhhh." 

She opened her eyes slightly so that she could look down at him and 
tightened her thighs around his bobbing head, holding him to her in a 
vice-like grip. She thought that she had seen a small flicker of light 
coming from somewhere in the room, but then put it out of her mind 
remembering that there was a light in the hall, besides nothing mattered now 
except their love-making. 

"I'm going to cum," she gasped. "I'm going to cum!" 

He licked and sucked her damp, hot cunt more furiously, driving his tongue 
into her vagina and bit gently at her swollen vaginal lips. She bucked her 
hips up toward his face never wanting him to stop when suddenly there was a 
flash of light. She looked over where she had seen the flash and there was 
her husband standing there outlined by a dire light from the next room with 
a Poloroid camera in his hand and a sadistic, lecherous grin on his face. 
His look was not one of anger, but one of lust and depravation. 

"Oh God ... nooooo," she groaned, but the young man did not stop for a 
moment. He had not seen the flash because his eyes were closed and leis face 
was totally buried between her legs. She tried to push his shoulders away 
from her, but he only clung to her more tightly. 

"Don't let me bother you," her husband said coldly, "I like to see you like 
this ... don't stop now." 

Her body tensed slightly, but she knew that she would have to have her 
climax or she would go out of her mind. 

Her husband moved in back of them and adjusted his camera for another shot. 

"Open your legs wider," he ordered her, "I want to catch everything on 
film." 

Only then did Dan lift his head for just a second, turning his face sideways 
slightly to see who had spoken. It hadn't sounded like Jennifer, but in his 
own sensual state he couldn't be sure where the voice had come from. His 
eyes opened wide in horror and he was struggling to get his balance on the 
couch, but her hands pulled him back to her again and she locked her knees 
around the sides of his face so that he would not leave her hanging, 
frustrated. 

"Don't stop ... not now ... please not now," she pleaded with him. "I want 
you and my husband doesn't care!" 

His hands ran up her body and held her breasts tightly, rubbing them back 
and forth, teasing the already sore, erect nipples until she was moaning 
from the pain and the pleasure of his caress. 

"Aaaggggghhh, ooooohhhhhh," she gasped, as he pulled his head away from 
between her grasp between her thighs and moved quickly up onto her body once 
again. He knelt over her like a stud horse, his huge, hard prick dangling 
down and jerking upwards every few seconds, the head purplish from the rush 
of blood through his loins. 

"Open wider," her husband ordered her again, "spread your legs wider!" 

Dan grabbed her knees and forced her legs as far apart as they could 
possibly go and then lowered his body just enough so that his mammoth, 
pulsing prick just touched the lips of her orifice. 

"That's it," Grant shouted as he snapped another picture, then another. 

"Please ... please," she begged him. "Give it to me!" 

Slowly, carefully he began to shove his mighty. throbbing cock into the 
open, wet slit, rubbing the head back and forth for just a moment before h 
let it slip into her. He eased it in gently, with a: frustrating slowness 
that she thought would drive her crazy. just when she thought that he would 
give her his full length and crush her body with. his, he would withdraw his 
long, thick phallus out again until just the bulbous head was inside her. 

"For God's sake.. . give it to me," she screamed, her body wracked with 
passion and need. She raised her hips in an effort to force him in her to 
the hilt, but he carefully balanced himself so that he could control his 
strokes. 

"Delightful," her husband said, "marvelous." 

She couldn't believe that he was actually allowing this to happen, but when 
she glanced at hire for just a moment, he had the camera on focus again, but 
as she looked at his naked body she saw that he had an erection ... a huge, 
bobbing erection! 

"Ooooohhhhh," she groaned, "I've got to have you.. . all of you." 

"Here it is, baby," Dan choked out, throwing all his weight behind his 
thrust and drove his cruel spike as deep between her legs as he could 
possibly go. 

"Aaaggggghhhh," she screamed from the sudden, excruciating pain she felt at 
the back of her cervix, for although she was wet and ready for him, she did 
not realize his full size and width. It felt even larger than the dildo! 

She pulled her thighs back toward her shoulders until there seemed to be 
nothing but a huge gaping space between her legs, and she choked. on a 
scream as he thrust into her again and again, hammering at the very pit of 
her being, tearing her, making her cum. 

"I'm cumming ... I'M CUMMING... " she gasped as she could feel the floodtide 
of all her emotions and desire release and pour over his throbbing, massive 
cock. He thrust into her harder and faster and she could feel his huge 
cudgel grow even thicker and she knew that he, too, was about to reach the 
apex of his lust, and a few seconds after she ground out the last of her 
climax, she felt his hot, pungent liquid shoot into her like a cannon. He 
pushed and pushed until every last drop of his sperm had been dragged from 
his pulsing cock, then he relaxed and lay on top of her, running his hands 
affectionately, gently over her totally exhausted body. 

"You were wonderful," her husband said, seating himself in the chair 
opposite the couch. "The pictures are clear ... and so interesting. You 
really made quite a couplel You fuck well together!" 

They both stared at him with disgust, but he didn't seem to mind. His eyes 
were void of emotion and Jennifer glanced down at his once erect penis and 
saw tiny small dribblings of his own sperm on his thigh. 

She didnt know what to say, what to do. She had married a man who got 
hisexcitement in deviated ways and he expected her to be a part of them. She 
couldn't believe that be had actually taken the pictures, but at the time 
her mind was not clear from her own passion, but now she wondered if she 
would ever be able to get those pictures away from him. She doubted it, but 
she would have to try. 

After a few minutes Dan got up from the couch and walked into the bathroom, 
picking his clothes up from the floor and carrying them in with him. 

"You're a monster," she spat at her husband. "You're sick!" 

"Not at all, my love," he said sarcastically. "I like to see you enjoying 
yourself so much, and I don't think that's sick." 

She closed her eyes, not able to look at him anymore. Any love she bad felt 
for him, even the hope that they could work things out, diminished as she 
fell into an exhausted sleep on the couch, still naked, with Dan's sperm 
still wet and warm between her legs. 

Chapter 5 

The next morning she got up and took a quick shower, hoping that she could 
get away from the hotel without waking her husband, but he heard her as she 
closed the bathroom door. 

She was already dressed and about to pick up her coat when he asked, "Where 
are you going" 

"Out for a walk," she replied matter-of-factly, not caring whether he agreed 
to let her go or not. 

"All right, I'll see you later or leave a message for you where I'll be." he 
said, then rolled over and went back to sleep. 

She had never felt so disgusted, so frustrated in her life. She didn't know 
what she was going to do next, how she could get out of this depraved 
situation, and she wished that she could go to her father and ask him what 
she should do, but she just couldn't let him know what kind of a man she had 
married. 

The air was crisp and she buttoned her coat tightly around her, but she knew 
that a lot of the cold was inside her and not in the weather. She walked 
down the Rue de Montagne until she reached the Champs Elysee. Although it 
was still fairly early in the morning, the boulevardiers were sitting and 
strolling along the street, whistling and making flattering comments to the 
girls as they walked by. She wished that she could get away from her 
husband, go back to Hollywood, home, anywhere, but she knew that he would 
never consent to a divorce and she had never felt so trapped in her life. 

She walked for what seemed miles, then decided to rest on a bench by the 
Seine and try to straighten things out in her mind. She sat there for about 
an hour when she suddenly noticed that an older man had joined her on the 
other end of the bench. She had been so wrapped in her own thoughts that she 
did not notice him sit down. She looked over at him and smiled. He was about 
her father's age and looked very pleasant, and she wondered if he spoke 
English. She had walked so far that she wasn't exactly sure which way she 
should go to get back to the hotel and maybe he could help her. 

"Pardon me," she said softly. "Do you speak English?" 

"Oui," he said, then laughed and repeated. "Yes." It's been so long since 
I've spoken it that I'm even thinking in French." 

"You're not French," she asked. 

"No, I'm German, but I've lived here for the past twelve years and I feel 
very French." 

"I can see how that could happen," she continued. "Paris is certainly a 
beautiful city." 

"Ah Yes, Paris, the city for lovers. Are you in love?" he said. 

"I was," she answered, hoping that she didn't sound too cynical, but she 
didn't want to have to explain her situation to anyone, even a stranger whom 
she would never see again. 

"That's too bad ... that it's over, I mean. Are you very lonely?" 

He seemed so sympathetic, so much like her father that she decided that it 
would be very boring for him, and it was embarrassing for her anyway. 

"I guess that I am lonely in a way, but I'm sure that it will pass. Doesn't 
it always?" 

"It always takes time for those things to pass, but a woman as young and as 
beautiful a's you should find yourself a new lover very quickly. 

She smiled at him and nodded, "I suppose you're right, but at the present 
things look rather bleak." 

"Well, maybe we can cure that. If you have no objection, I'd be happy to buy 
you a drink at a cantina that is just around the corner. The music is 
lively, full of spirit and we could talk there. It would be more comfortable 
than this bench." 

She hesitated for just a minute then told him that she would love to join 
him for a drink. After all, what did she have to lose, nothing could get 
much worse and maybe it would take her mind off of her husband for a few 
more hours. The cantina was on the ground floor of a dingy looking resident 
hotel, but the place itself lent a certain kind of charm. He directed her to 
a table in the back of the room and asked her if it would be all right if he 
ordered for her. 

"There is a typically French drink that I think you'll like. May I?" 

"Certainly, I'll try it anyway," she said. 

A fat, sloppy waiter came over to their table and took their order. 

"Deux Pernod," the man said and the waiter left to get the drinks. 

"What's Pernod," she asked, wondering whether it was a wine, liquor or what. 

"It tastes like licorice," he said, "and it's quite refreshing. You can 
drink it with water if you like, but actually it's better straight." 

"I'll try it straight then," she said. 

"How long have you been in Paris," he asked her. "Is this your first time in 
Europe, you seem so typically American." 

"I didn't know that it showed that much," she laughed. "Yes, it's my first 
time." 

"You'll find the attitudes much different over here," he continued. "But I 
guess you'll have time to find that out." 

"What do you mean," she asked, since his statement had been so ambiguous. 

"For one thing, our attitude about love and marriage." 

"Oh really, what's so different?" 

"Well, in America you believe in total monoga my, one wife, one husband, no 
outside lovers, no occasional affairs after marriage, isn't that so?" 

"Yes, I suppose it is, however, a lot of extramarital affairs do go on I 
imagine." 

"Yes, I'm sure they do, but it's always a hidden, secret sort of thing. No 
one admits that he or she has taken a lover, regardless of their situation 
at home." 

She almost wanted to laugh, but she let him continue. 

"Here when a man marries he may be in love with his wife and want her to 
bear his children, but that has nothing to do with his mistress. He can 
openly declare that he is sleeping with another woman and no one cares, it 
isn't something that is uncommon or shunned. In fact, some wives even 
encourage their husbands to take a lover." 

"I see," she said simply as she took her first sip of the Pernod. It burned 
her throat, but it did have a licoricey taste and she like it. 

"I don't think that you really do see," he laughed, "but these things take 
time getting used to." 

She nodded and downed the rest of her drink. 

"Careful," he warned her, "those things can sneak up on you." 

"It's very good, though, I think I'd like another." 

He smiled warmly at her and told the waiter to bring another round. He 
seemed so easy to talk to, so friendly, so understanding, and he reminded 
her of her father, so she started to tell him what had happened with her 
marriage, leaving out the more embarrassing details. 

"I feel so inadequate," she said, "I feel that somehow it must be my fault 
that my husband can't make love to me, I just don't understand it." 

 "You musn't feel like that," he said quietly. 

"You're a very beautiful girl and I'm sure that you could make any man 
happy. Don't t let it get you down, I'm sure you will be able to work 
something out. I admit that it is a drastic situation, but it's not the end 
of the world." 

"It seems like my world is ending," she said, trying to fight back the tears 
that had been building all day. 

"You see," he continued, "that is just what I was saying about American 
morals. In your case, if you lived here, you could remain married to your 
husband and take a lover at the same time and no one would think it terrible 
or immoral. It's only the American myth that prevents your doing that. My 
advice to you would be to try to adapt to your new life, but find yourself 
some other man to sleep with." 

"That isn't always so easy to do. I wouldn't like to have to shop around for 
one, if you know what I mean." 

"Yes, I know, but how else do you know that someone can make you happy in 
bed?" 

She nodded in agreement and said that that would be a problem. 

The pernods were warming her all over and she felt a close companionship 
with this stranger. His mannerisms were even like her father's and for the 
first time in a long time she felt completely at home with someone. 

They sat and talked for several hours when he suggested that they go to his 
place and he would fix her something to eat. 

"I rarely eat out these days, besides I'd like to make you my special dish, 
that is, if you don't have to hurry on back." 

It seemed like such an innocent invitation that she told him she would love 
to join him for something to eat, so they left the cafe and walked a few 
more blocks to where he lived. It, too, was a resi dent hotel, but not quite 
as shabby as the one where the cantina was. They walked up the stairs to his 
room and he unlocked the door. It was a dreary room with just one small 
table, a kitchenette, a large iron poster bed and a bath, with a bidet in 
the corner. 

"It isn't very elegant I know," he apologized, "but I don't need much for 
myself really." 

She didn't know what she should say, so she remained silent. 

"There's another bottle of Pernod on the table, so please help yourself," he 
told her, and she poured them each a glass of the clear white liquid. She 
was feeling a little light-headed, but she felt so safe with this man that 
it didn't matter, he wouldn't try anything with her, of that she was 
certain. 

"You know," she laughed, "I don't even know your name, mine's Jennifer." 

"I'm Karl, Jennifer, and it is a pleasure to know you. " 

She watched him while he peeled some vegetables, pounded some slices of meat 
and put them all in one large pot with some wine and turned on the burner 
for them to cook. 

"It takes a while, but this way we can get to know each other better over a 
few more glasses of pernod." 

He sat down on the bed and motioned for her to come join him. "I'm not going 
to bite you," he said. "Besides, those chairs are terribly hard and 
uncomfortable." 

She picked up her glass and sat down next to him, but her head was spinning 
so she leaned back against the pillow and let her legs dangle over the end 
of the bed. He could see where her stockings ended and the slight, soft 
bulge of her naked thigh began, but she didn't notice his stare, she felt 
too carefree and light. He reached out and patted her on the knee and told 
her that maybe she shouldn't drink anymore and wait until after they had 
eaten. 

She reached down and put her glass next to her on the floor, almost losing 
her balance and falling from the bed at the same time. He reached out and 
grabbed her, his hands holding her underneath the arms, but his fingers 
stretching out and rubbing gently against the soft, full mound of her 
breast. She ignored his obvious caress thinking that he was just trying to 
help her keep her balance, but as he lifted her back onto the bed, he forced 
her roughly into the mattress and fell on top of her. 

She gasped with surprise, but her arms were pinned and she couldn't fight 
him off. 

"No ... dont," she choked, too surprised to say anyting else, but he was 
breathing lustfully into her neck, whispering obscenities at her. 

"American whore," he hissed, "all American woman are alike ... they just 
tease, well, you're not going to get away with it." 

"I didn't do anything," she cried. "I didn't!" 

"You come up here with me, sit on my bed, let me look up your skirt, and you 
say you're not teasing me. Well, we'll see." 

She started to sob, but he was like an animal, ripping the clothes from her 
body as though they were made out of paper. 

"Bitch ... whore ... cunt," he gasped as he pulled the thin brassiere away 
and sunk his teeth into the soft, tender flesh of her breasts. 

"Aaagggghhhh," she groaned, "Stop!" 

It only took him a few minutes before he had her completely naked and 
trembling on the bed. Her head was too heavy from the drink for her to fight 
and every time she tried to get up he pushed her back into the mattress 
while he took off his own clothes. 

His body was hairy and squat and at one time had probably been quite 
muscular, but the years had left him flabby and sagging. The only thing that 
looked alive was his huge, thick organ which jutted out like a proud peacock 
away from his hairy paunch, and his testicles which hung loosely between his 
legs. 

He seemed to have ten hands, all tearing at her flesh as though he were 
trying to devour her, mangle her, tear her apart piece by piece. She tried 
to claw at him, but he slapped her face harshly and then threw his weight 
down on her. 

"You filthy whore," he gasped, "you're going to get fucked like never 
before!" 

"No ... please ... don't," she implored, but he was not aware of anything 
that she was saying, he didn't care what she was saying! 

The alcohol had made her weak and helpless, but she knew that she had to 
fight him, yet each time she tried, his fingers just held her tighter, 
bruising her skin and causing red welts to rise between his imprints. She 
knew that she was not a match for his brute strength as he twisted her body 
sadistically, pulling savagely at her breasts and kneading her skin, 
pinching and prodding. His hands slipped under her hips and she could feel 
one of his huge, meaty fingers prodding at her puckered, virginal anus. 

"Aaagggggghh," she groaned as he forced his finger inside her, twisting it 
cruelly, stretching the tight, small orifice, sawing in and out in 
preparation for what was to follow. She tried to turn her hips sideways to 
avoid this cruel, painful impalement, but his hairy belly was pressed down 
on her so that she couldn't move. He was stretching her deliberately and 
each time he made a sudden, sharp movement with his finger she cried out 
from the pain. 

She couldn't stand the pressure of his finger in side her tight, elastic 
rectum, but he kept shoving at her until his entire finger was buried inside 
her anal orifice. 

Reluctantly he withdrew his finger from her for just a moment and yanked her 
body sideways on the bed until she lay prostrate, flat on her stomach. She 
clutched at the pillow, digging her fingers into the soft down and tried to 
raise herself, but she was still too dizzy and she flopped back down onto 
the mattress. He laughed sadistically at her futile efforts, and reached 
underneath her once again. He pulled back on her thighs and ordered her to 
kneel. 

"On your knees, you teasing bitch," he shouted at her, pulling her roughly 
towards him, his one hand securely locked between her legs, and he began to 
play with her aching clitoris and vaginal lips. 

"I can't," she whispered helplessly. "I'm too dizzy." 

"I said KNEEL," he repeated, this time pulling back on her thighs and 
lifting her buttocks off the mattress. She had never felt so subjugated to 
someone's will, so defenseless and weak. 

He was on his knees in back of her, pulling and pushing her as though she 
were a lifeless ragdoll, a toy that he used for his own desires and 
amusement. 

Her head was still buried in the pillow but her knees were now bucked 
underneath her, her but tocks swaying drunkenly back and forth in front of 
him. 

He ran his hands over the smooth, rounded globes of her buttock cheeks, 
spreading them as far apart as they could possibly go and only then did she 
realize what he had in mind for her. 

"No ... no ... " she groaned. "Please ... no!" 

"Why not," he chuckled, "you're just a whore and I'm sure you've done this 
many times." His fingers ran up the crease between her buttock cheeks and he 
inserted one finger roughly, deep into her vagina, for the lubricating fluid 
of her channel. His finger worked furiously until he could feel her juices 
begin to flow, then ran his finger back and forth over her anus, wetting the 
tiny, puckered hole. 

She felt his hands close on the tops of her thighs, gripping them tightly, 
as his huge, solid prick jerked up at her rectal opening. 

"Don't ... it won't fit," she begged him, trying to fall away from his 
strong grip on her thighs. 

"I'll make it fit, baby," he laughed, "I'll make it fit!" 

She could feel the rubbery head of his massive cock pry at her tight, dry 
orifice and he pulled her cheeks apart roughly and pushed his hips into her 
backside with all his might. 

"Oooooohhhbh, aaagggggggbbhhbh, nnnooooooo," she screamed, and she bit her 
lips to try to ease the pain as she felt the first inch of his monstrous 
penis slip into her virginal opening. 

"That's a baby," he crooned thickly. "Back up to your daddy." 

She tried to let her knees slip out from under her, but it was no use, he 
was holding her up as he shoved deeper and deeper into her tight, resisting 
rectum. 

She conjoint t escape from him, his hips thrust harder and more cruelly into 
her and his hands held her thighs back against him. 

She thought that she would pass out from the excruciating pain, pain like 
she had never felt in her life. His prick surged into her, solid and steady 
until he had buried his long, thick shaft up to the very hilt of her anus 
and he couldn't shove any further. Once he was fully inside her she hoped 
that the pain would subside, that she would get accustomed to his massive 
intrusion, but he began, to saw in and out of her, pulling the skin of her 
anus cruelly with each stroke. Her rectum seemed reluctant to release him 
and the elastic hole seemed to hold him securely in place while he tortured 
her more and more. 

She could feel his testicles bang against the back of her thighs with each 
thrust, heavy and full. 

"Please ... no more ... Stop," she choked out through her tears of pain and 
humiliation, but he ignored her and went on sodomizing her, a cruel grin 
frozen on his lips. 

"Whore ... whore," he spat, digging his fingers more harshly into the 
smooth, tender skin of hex inner thighs. He was gasping and groaning with 
sadistic delight as he continued to tear into her, inflicting unbearable 
pain. He moved in and out of her resistant, tight passage, his penis 
straining as though it were going to burst like a balloon any minute. 

"Oh baby," he moaned, his balls and thick hard penis throbbing with his 
impending climax with each new thrust. 

She felt like his slave, his concubine, unable to protest anything that he 
demanded of her, but her body ached so. He moved in and out of her in long, 
hard, painful strokes, each time drawing his cruel tool out to the very tip 
of the blood-red head then shoving it back inside her harshly. He knew that 
he would cum at any second, but he wanted to punish her longer, degrade her 
as he would any whore. He wanted to skewer her like a pig on a spit, split 
her wide open, make her plead for mercy, but his prick was heavy with his 
sperm and he began to jerk his hot liquid into her in long, wet spurts, 
lubricating her rectum with his seed. 

"Ooooohhhhh, my God," he groaned as he could feel his release surging deeply 
into her. His fingers clung to her, pulling her back and forth on his 
pulsing, jerking cock and he murmured crude, inaudible obscenities as he 
ground out the last of his climax. 

When he was spent he held her for a little longer, hesitant to pull his 
satisfied cock from its warm, wet enclosure, but he was tired, so he let her 
fall back onto the bed, his prick sliding wetly from her backside. 

She rolled over on her side and raised her knees to her chest, trying to 
recover from the terrible pain that was still torturing her buttocks and she 
sobbed uncontrollably. 

"Get up, you whore, and get out of here. You make me sick!" he ordered her, 
slapping her hips sharply. 

She struggled to bring her legs to the side of the bed and staggeringly made 
her way to the table and balanced herself for a moment. 

She searched for what clothing she could find on the floor and on the bed 
and dressed as quickly and neatly as she could and left his room. She found 
the stairs and slowly edged her way, step by step, into the lobby and onto 
the street. She hailed a taxi and gave him the address of the hotel. She 
powdered her nose and tried to fix her make-up; still in a daze from the 
horrible nightmare she had just lived through. She hoped that her husband 
would not be in the room when she arrived so that she could take a long, hot 
bath and try to ease hey pain, and rid herself of the dirty, humiliated 
feeling that she had. 

In a few minutes.the cab pulled up in front of her hotel and she got out and 
went to the room. She found a note that Grant would meet her later in the 
restaurant and after looking at the clock she still had an hour to get 
ready, so she tearfully drew her bath and tired to relax. 

Chapter 6 

She didn't say anything to Grant about what had happened, there was no 
reason to, and she was certain that he wouldn't have cared anyway. It seemed 
that he was delighted when she suffered, that this excited him rather than 
disgusted him or angered him. 

They ate dinner in relative silence because there was nothing that she could 
say about what had taken place the night before Dan, and he didn't seem to 
want to discuss it anyway. She wondered just how far his perversions went 
and it was almost frightening to be alone with him when she didn't know what 
to expect. 

Finally she said, "I want to go back to Hollywood, Grant. I want to leave 
right away." 

"Nonsense. Give it a few more days and you'll love it here, besides we still 
have another week before I have to be back." 

"I don't mean go back with you, Grant. I want to go back by myself:' 

He just looked at her and said, "How badly do you want to continue your 
career. You leave me and your career will be finished, I'll see to that." 

She just stared at him with hate in her eyes, knowing that he was powerful 
enough in Hollywood to have her black-balled from every studio and that no 
one would hire her if he told them not to. 

"That's not fair, Grant," she continued. "You know that." 

"I know," he said, "But I do love you, believe it or not, and I'm not going 
to let you go." 

She thought of her father and how disappointed he would be if she failed in 
her acting and she couldn't bear to hurt him in any way. 

"All right," she condescended, "but let's try to be more understanding from 
now on. I loved you before we were married, but I can't go on living in fear 
of you regardless of how I felt." 

"I don't want to scare you, my love," he said. "You'll get used to me and my 
little quirks, it's all part of marriage." 

She knew that she was defeated, that he would never change, rifer try to 
change, and that if she wanted her career she would have to spend the rest 
of her life just living a lie. 

"Besides," he continued, "I want you to meet a special friend of mine 
tomorrow, she's a woman whom I know you will find fascinating. She used to 
be a very well known stage actress in Europe and it will be a nice contact 
for you." 

"Very well," she agreed, "I'll try it for one more day." 

That night when they went to bed, he just turned his back to her and went to 
sleep. She was relieved because she wouldn't have to go through the 
humiliation with the dildo again, but it was so frustrating to sleep next to 
her new husband and not have a normal, healthy relationship. She fell asleep 
thinking about what the man had told her that afternoon about taking a lover 
and she knew that eventually she would have to do something. 

The next morning they got up early, dressed, had a leisurely breakfast and 
rented a car. They were driving to a country villa just outside of Paris to 
visit a Madame La Fleur, the friend of Grant's. 

The car wound through a tree-lined drive that seemed to continue for miles 
before she could finally see the huge villa just up ahead. There were many 
smaller houses on the estate and what looked like a kennel and a stable to 
the right of the main house. A guard stopped them at the gate to the house 
and called in to let Madame La Fleur who was calling, then waved them 
through. 

By the time they pulled in front of the main house, an older woman, about 
forty-five or fifty was standing on the porch dressed in a hostess gown that 
was so elegant 'Jennifer wasn't sure whether it was a fancy dressing gown or 
she was ready for a formal ball. Her hair was neatly combed back in and tied 
with a ribbon, and long hoop earrings dangled almost to her shoulders. 

"Daaaarling," she crooned when Grant got out of the car and gave her a long, 
affectionate kiss and hug, nearly forgetting that Jennifer was still waiting 
in the car. 

"Oh," he said, . "I've brought you my new bride and my newest discovery." He 
winked at the woman and then helped Jennifer from the car. 

"Jennifer, this is Madame La Fleur whom I've told you about." 

"Nice to meet you," she said quietly. 

"Well, well, Grant," the woman said, "she certainly is the loveliest thing 
I've seen in ages. How did you ever manage that?" She laughed heartily and 
took Jennifer by the hands and held them for just a moment. 

Together they walked into the huge study and Madame La Fleur rang for the 
maid to bring them some coffee and brandy: The room was huge and overflowed 
with antique furniture, some of it so fragile looking that she was almost 
afraid to touch anything or sit down. She had never seen such a collection 
of odds and ends in her life. 

"A lot of these pieces were once props in my plays," she explained to 
Jennifer. 

"I know that they don't all fit together, but they do have sentimental value 
for me." 

"It's charming, really," Jennifer :aid, slightly embarrassed that she should 
have caught her look of confusion. 

"You must show her the rest of the house after we finish our coffee, Grace," 
Grant said, calling her by her first name. 

She looked at him puzzled, then nodded smiling as though something had just 
connected with what he had said. 

"Jennifer loves dogs and horses, so you must show her the kennels," he said 
laughing harshly. 

"Oh ... oh, I see," she said. "It would be my pleasure. Grant, you old dog, 
you haven't changed a bit!" 

Jennifer knew that they were sharing some kind of a private joke, but she 
wasn't exactly sure what it was, and it made her nervous, because she never 
knew what to expect anymore. 

She knotted her hands restlessly in her lap, wishing that she had never 
consented to come out here with him. 

She drank her coffee and brandy as slowly as she could, hoping that they 
would forget about showing her the rest of the house, but a few minutes 
later Madame La Fleur got up and told them that if they were ready she would 
give them the grand tour. 

Hesitantly, she put down her cup and followed the woman and her husband down 
a long corridor lined with old pictures and posters that must have been from 
her plays also, until they reached a steep set of stairs and they began to 
climb. The stairs led to the back part of the house that looked as though it 
had never been finished. The ceilings were high and darkly stained and the 
only light was afforded by weak, flickering gas candles that lined the 
hallway. 

Madame La Fleur opened a heavy oak door and motioned for them to go inside. 
The room was empty except for several iron cages which covered one entire 
wall. Jennifer thought that it was strange to find this woman kept her dogs 
inside her house, especially with all the beautiful grounds and facilities 
on the estate. The dogs barked when they came in and strained at their 
leases which kept them chained even inside their cages. 

"These are my prizes," Madame La Fleur said proudly, "especially this one." 
She pointed to a huge dog that looked as though it were part Shepherd and 
part Mastoid. It was the biggest, ugliest dog she had ever seen, and growled 
like it had to be the fiercest. 

Jennifer shrank back and grabbed onto Grant's arm tightly. 

"Don't be afraid, my dear," he said, "they really are very friendly, you'll 
see!" Madame La Fleur and Grant both laughed with a slight tinge of 
amusement. 

Madame La Fleur walked to the other end of the room and pushed a button 
which released a sliding door and Jennifer gasped when she saw what the wall 
had been hiding. 

The room was full of all kinds of instruments that looked as though they 
were used for an oldfashioned torture chamber. In the middle of the room was 
a huge square mattress, supported only by four iron rods to which leather 
straps and chains were attached. Various size whips and thongs hung from the 
ceiling, as well as a graduated set of dildos! 

"Oh no," she screamed, "I want to get out of here," pulling at Grant's arm 
and urging him back toward the other door. 

"Relax, my pet," he said, "I want you to get better acquainted with this 
place, especially that one big friend out there." 

Madame La Fleur moved to the cage where the huge dog was confined and opened 
the door. The dog leaped out, tugging at the steel chain around its neck and 
pulled the woman toward Jennifer. Jennifer started to back up, but she had 
no place to go except into the room behind the sliding door. Grant grabbed 
her roughly and pushed her towards the mattress in the middle of the room. 

"We didn't make love last night so that you would be ready for your little 
surprise today," he chuckled meanly, pushing her backwards onto the spongy 
mat. 

"No ... no ... please," she screamed, but his hands were already tearing her 
clothes from her body in violent, ripping frenzy, not caring whether or not 
he ruined what she had on. 

"Please Grant," she implored, "Not this ... I can't!" 

She looked at Madame La Fleur hoping that she would show some sympathy, but 
her face was set like stone except for a slight smirk. 

"You'll like my little pet," she laughed, "he's quite a lover!" 

Her husband had already stripped the clothes from her body regardless of how 
she struggled against him. She was no match for his strength or his lust and 
she tried to hide her nakedness with her hands, but he grabbed her wrists as 
he pushed her back onto the mattress and anchored them securely with two of 
the bands at the top of the posts. She kicked her legs wildly, trying to 
keep him from chaining down her ankles also, but Mad ame La Fleur came 
closer with the dog who was now standing just by her head growlin and every 
once in awhile slavering his long tongue over her face. She tried to turn 
away from him, but it was useless. 

Her husband grabbed one ankle then the other and fastened them to the other 
two posts at the foot of the mattress, and there she lay, manacles and 
helpless, at the mercy of these two deranged people and the huge dog. She 
strained her muscles, but the only part of her that could move upward were 
her hips and shoulders, everything else was being held tight by her bonds. 

Madame La Fleur moved to the foot of the mattress and let the huge dog sniff 
along her long, slender calves and thighs. The dog's nose was cold against 
her skin and she tried to cringe away from his curious sniffing, but she 
couldn't turn one way or the other. 

"He has the scent already," Grant laughed, looking at the older woman. "He 
must have been locked up for some time." 

"He has," Madame La Fleur said, "he should be really ready to go today!" 

"God no," Jennifer screamed, "Please God no!" 

"Scream all you like, my dear," the woman finally said, "the whole room is 
soundproof, so it doesn't matter. No one can hear you but us !" 

Jennifer closed her eyes, trying to shut out the image of their -faces arid 
the ugliness of the monstrous dog that was now licking and sniffing the 
inside of her thighs, searching for his ultimate goal. She bucked her hips, 
trying to get away from the probing nose until her stomach muscles ached 
from the strain, then fell back onto the mattress realizing that it was 
hopeless. 

"Slowly Prince," the woman told the dog. "We don't want to rush things too 
fast." 

The dog raised his head for a moment to look at his mistress, then began to 
move his tongue down towards her ankles once again. 

"It must have taken you years to train Prince," Grant said, "but he is a 
marvelous creature." 

"Yes, isn't he," she agreed, "he's one I bred specially and have taken a ht 
of time with him personally." 

Jennifer raised her head slightly to see where the dog was now, for she 
could no longer feel the coldness of his nose or his drooling tongue on her 
body. Her neck muscles strained as she looked around and saw her husband, 
Madame La Fleur and the dog all standing at the end of the mattress, staring 
at her, enjoying the look of horror and fear that tortured her beautiful 
face. The woman was bending down to unleash the dog so that he would have 
greater freedom at her shackled body. 

"Ooooobhhh," she groaned when she realized that they were actually going to 
turn this huge monster loose on her, to do what he pleased while they stood 
there and watched. 

Grant was rubbing a rising bulge that was growing in his trousers from the 
anticipation of what was about to happen. He couldn't wait to see his 
beautiful, helpless wife at the mercy of this beast. It gave him such 
pleasure to see her shame and humiliation when he subjected her to these 
cruel indecent acts. 

After the woman had taken the leash off, the dog waited for her command. 

"Okay," she commanded him, "Slowly. 

The dog moved back towards her naked, straining body, his cold, wet nose, 
prodding between her knees, sniffing for her scent. His tongue slobbered 
over her thighs, licking rough up the inside of her trembling legs. She 
closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to watch the sadistic gleam in her 
torturer's eyes, nor see this bulky, hairy animal as he moved between her 
spread-eagled legs. She could feel his nose between her loins now, poking, 
probing for her opening, while his thick, rough tongue licked furiously 
between her thighs, tickling her, torturing her. 

Grant rubbed his now fully erect, throbbing prick more furiously, enjoying 
the horrified look on his wife's face, the gritting of her teeth and the 
clenching of her fists while the dog took his time, hovering over her 
quivering body. He could hardly wait until he found the nub of her clitoris 
and began to lick it, he wanted to see the expression on her face then. 

Jennifer's chest was shaking with sobs, bouncing her full, soft, voluptuous 
breasts up and down, and he walked over to her and pinched the pink, tender 
nipples until they stood erect. 

"Stop it," she screamed at him, "Get away from me!" 

"Just trying to help you enjoy it," he laughed, his mouth twisted in an evil 
grin. "Feel good?" 

The dog was sniffing and poking more furiously now and she knew that it 
wouldn't be long before he would find what he was looking for between her 
legs and she tried to close her knees, but his head was buried too solidly 
in her loins. 

"Lick her, Prince, lick her," the woman commanded the dog, and the animal 
raised his broad nose, then let his tongue part her soft, sparse pubic hair 
and slide noisily along the entire central slit between her legs. 

"Ooooohhhh," she groaned, "Nnnooooo." 

The dog's tongue had touched her tiny, fleshy clitoris and with each lap she 
could feel it growing into an involuntary erectness. Grant's hands began to 
fondle her breasts once again and despite her feeling of revulsion, she 
could feel a tingling growing in her body. 

I can't let myself feel anything, she vowed to herself, and she bit her lip 
to keep from crying out; but the dog's tongue was moving faster and faster 
over the soft, sensitive nob, driving her out of her mind! 

She could feel her own juices begin to build inside her no matter how hard 
she tried to fight her reactions, the lewd licking tongue was exciting her! 

"That's a boy," Madame La Fleur said, "Lick her harder." 

The dog's cold nose was pushed hard against her clitoris and his tongue was 
slavering up and down the small, sensitive slit of her vagina, separating 
her vaginal lips with each lap. 

Jennifer tried to relax her body, close her mind to what was happening, but 
she couldn't deny that she was feeling something! 

Grant watched the dog's tongue as it explored every crevice and fold between 
her legs and he hoped that he himself could last until the dog finally 
mounted her and locked into her. He pressed his thighs close together in an 
effort to stay his own desires, his own orgasm, and clenched his fists. 

Jennifer was rolling her head back and forth on the mattress in a silent 
protest to what was happening, a pained look of humiliation on her face. 

She could feel the dog's hot breath on her thighs, his long, wet tongue 
searching and scrap ing every part of her into a furnace of desire, but her 
mind still could not accept it. 

She wanted to stop him before it was too late, but each time she tried to 
free herself, her bonds just became tighter, so she lay there immobile, 
clenching her fists, trying to think of some way she could keep herself from 
reacting to this debasing animal. The dog concentrated once again on the bud 
of her clitoris and no matter what she tried, it was becoming hard! 

 "Noooooo," she gapsed finally, "Dear God, nooooo." 

"Feeling better," Grant hissed, enjoying every minute of her agony. 

The tenseness and pain that were contracted in her belly were slowly 
beginning to dwindle with his continued manipulation of her tiny, red knob 
and her thighs were trembling with excitement. She took a deep breath as his 
tongue flicked between her vaginal lips and slipped slightly inside her 
moist, open channel. She could not move away from the dog's tireless licking 
and as his tongue pushed further and further between her legs she knew that 
she would be unable to stop herself from cummingl Her body had taken 
complete control of her mind and there was nothing she could do. She wished 
that they would take the dog away before she lost the very last bit of 
control she was clinging to, but both Madame La Fleur and hex husband were 
delighting in watching her suffer at the dog's mercy. 

"It feels good, doesn't it," Grant whispered to her, "You like it, don't you 
!" 

How could he be so cruel, she thought, how could he do this to me, this 
final and horrible humiliation! 

He leaned over her prostrate, shackled body and closed his mouth over her 
ripe breasts, sucking first one nipple then the other, running his tongue 
back and forth on them until they were fully erect, and nibbling at them, 
knowing that she couldn't help herself any longer. 

She was breathing in little, choked gasps now, trying to fight her sensual 
reaction with each strained breath, and he knew that she was struggling 
against her own emotions. 

"Don't fight it, baby," he grunted, "You know you like it." 

She was like a bitch in heat, he thought, but she can't accept it with all 
her proper upbringing, it's tearing her apart, and he laughed cruelly at his 
own thoughts. 

The dog had gotten the scent of her juices that were now flowing freely, 
wracking her body with desire and he raised his head, sniffed and growled. 

"He's getting impatient," Madame La Fleur said. "He wants to sample her!" 

The dog's huge cock was hanging between his hind legs, ready to take her. 
It's size was monumental. He, would tear into her hot little cunt, rip her 
apart and not stop until he had finished. He would screw her until she was 
begging for them to pull the dog off of her, cutting her, tearing her and it 
served her right, it served any beautiful woman right. 

He knew that once the woman gave the signal, the dog would mount her and 
hold her with his paws and drive his nine inch thick spike so deep into her 
that she would think it was in her throat. He wouldn't ease it in gently, 
but ram it in to its full length with his first thrust and keep it there, 
just hammering at the base of her belly. 

"Let him at her," Grant told Madame La Fleur, "I don't think I can wait much 
longer!" 

They both laughed as Jennifer screamed, and she gave Prince the order to 
mount her. 

"Fuck her, Prince ... fuck her good," she commanded, and in a split second 
the dog had moved up on her body and his giant rod was poised and throbbing 
menacingly just over her vagina. 

She tried to turn her hips away from his monstrous organ, but the dog rammed 
up into her like a cannon that was about to fire. 

"Aaaaaagggggghhhhhh," she screamed, feeling the walls of her vagina being 
split open and torn. 

She could only think of the throbbing between her legs and she felt the 
first contractions of her or gasm begin to start, jerking wildly around the 
savage thickness of the dog's prick. Her eyes were closed tightly and she 
tried to pretend that it was someone else making love to her ... a man, not 
a filthy, slobbering animal. The only thing that mattered in her mind now 
was that she could complete her own climax and she ground her hips back and 
forth in complete abandonment, ignoring the searing pain that was in her 
loins and growing through her entire body. 

When she felt the last of her contractions she realized then that the beast 
was still hammering away inside her, cutting her, ripping her apart with his 
giant spearhead cock. 

"No ... Noooo," she screamed, "Pull him off ... Please ... I'll do 
anything," but her pleas were met with an icy silence. 

Each time he thrust into her she thought that she would go out of her mind, 
but she didn't, she couldn't even lose consciousness. In some fantastic way 
she knew she had never felt like this before, and if she could accept the 
fact in her mind that it was an animal who was making her feel like this, 
then she would be all right. 

She knew that this dog would bring her to a second climax if they didn't 
pull him off of her, and maybe even a third. Her body was being buffeted by 
this great creature, but she was now beginning to accept her own animal 
reaction, and it didn't seem quite so bad. 

Grant was watching the look of complete degradation and pain that tortured 
her face and he grinned, satisfied that he had completely debased her in her 
own eyes. 

The dog was still thrusting into her relentlessly and it didn't look as if 
he would ever stop. His stamina was incredible as he pounded into her 
weakened and battered body, shattering her vagina with each new impalement. 

"I'm going to cum ...," she gasped helplessly, "I'm Gumming ... I'm 
cumming!" 

Her body was trembling frantically, her knees and thighs quivering with her 
orgasm, then she fell limply back into the mattress. She was completely 
exhausted, beaten, and her body was almost lifeless, her eyelids barely 
fluttering as the dog continued his long strokes inside her. 

Madame La Fleur and Grant watched as the dog finally began to slow and they 
knew that his final degradation was imminent, he was about to spill his hot, 
canine sperm into her torn, aching belly, filling her, shaming her. Saliva 
drooled from the dog's mouth and ran over her stilled body and onto the 
mattress. He jerked forward one last time, his head hanging down and panting 
as he waited for his massive rod to go back to it's normal size so that he 
could pull out of her. 

Grant was fumbling with the fly on his trousers, trying to free his own 
hard, throbbing rod before it would be too late, and he held it gingerly in 
his hand. The dog was still buried in her wet, throbbing cunt, but he wanted 
something else, he wanted to feel his prick in her mouth, sucking him. 

He slapped the side of her face in an effort to bring her back to 
consciousness, and her eyes fluttered weakly. 

"You're not done yet," he growled at her. "Open that little mouth of yours." 

She closed her eyes again and rolled her head from side to side, refusing to 
open it. 

He slapped more harshly this time and she looked up at him, hate glaring 
from her eyes. 

"You better open up if you know what's good for you," he threatened, and he 
pushed two fingers between her teeth and pried open her clenched jaw. 

"Nooooo," she moaned, hardly able to move at all. "I can't." 

"You can and you will," he ordered her, "or I'll let Prince have another 
turn with you. You have your choice, is it me or the dog!" 

Her voice was weak and soft as she murmured, "You." 

There was no more fight left in her, she couldn't resist anything anymore, 
she was too shamed already. 

"That's my darling wife," he grinned, looking over at Madame La Fleur who 
was chaining the dog up again and leading him back to his cage. 

"Untie me, please," she begged him, "Please untie me:" 

"Are you gong to be gooA"?" he asked her, "Will you suck me good?" 

"Anything," she mouthed, her words barely audible. 

He bent down and released her wrists and knelt by her head, letting his now 
fully erect, jerking prick pulsate just above her head. 

"Grab my hips," he ordered her, shoving his knees forward on the mattress 
and letting his manhood touch the end of her upturned nose. 

She rubbed her wrists to bring circulation back into her hands, then reached 
in back of her and placed her hands on his trousered hips. He moved closer 
to her mouth and the purplish, veined head of his weapon touched the corner 
of her mouth. 

"Suck me, you lovely," he hissed pushing forward just an inch or so more so 
that his throbbing cock slipped easily between her lips. Her mouth opened 
loosely, the muscles in her jaw weak from her clenched teeth. 

"Tell me you want me," he co nded. "Tell me!" 

She wished that he had asked her that the first night of their marriage, 
under normal circumstances. She remembered how much she had want ed him 
then, how much she hadloved him-`then and how she would have loved to have 
made love to him this way if only the other things hadn't happened. It was 
almost ludicrous, but she wrapped her lips softly around his erect, pulsing 
staff and let him move it in and out of her parched mouth. 

"Suck me ... suck me hard," his voice becoming cruel once again. 

She didn't know where she would get the strength to do what he was 
demanding, but she didn't want to have the dog on her again, so she grasped 
his hips a little tighter and began to work her mouth around his hot, 
bobbing phallus, letting her tongue rub the sensitive underside, feeling the 
protruding veins as he ground deeper. and deeper into her throat. 

"Oooooohh," he groaned, "that's sow nice, so damned nice.' 

He adjusted his position so that he could almost shove his entire rod down 
into her throat and she began to choke as it hit the back of her neck. 

His fingers dug into the muscles of her shoulders that were already sore 
from straining against her bonds and she wished that he would cum and get it 
over with, but for ,.the first time he seemed insatiable. 

She let the head of his' thick organ move back and forth in her mouth as she 
sucked on it like a child would a lollipop as he panted and gasped above 
her. A drop of his pungent sperm was already on the tip of his thick, long 
penis and she could taste the salt and smell the pungent, sweet odor of his 
secreting semen. 

Why can't he do this inside of me, she thought to herself, her body 
tortured, but her mind slowly beginning to function again. Why can't he fuck 
me! 

She was almost in a catatonic state as he rocked his hips forward and back 
over her head. 

"Do it to me," he gasped, "suck me harder . . o make me cum!" 

His voice had a desperate tone, not like the harshness he had used earlier, 
he was almost pleading with her to satisfy him! 

She could feel the slight drippings from his swollen head and she increased 
the pressure of her lips around his cannon. 

Maybe if she could satisfy him this way, eventually he would be able to make 
normal love to her someday, and the thought excited her. Her tongue raced 
furiously up and down his hard, swollen staff, and she mustered all of her 
remaining strength in the hope that she could make him cum, make him want 
her! 

He bent his knees slightly and she could feel th-material of his slacks 
against her soft, pink cheeks; and she could hear his breathing increasing 
almost to desperate gasps. 

More of his sperm oozed from the tip of his jerking staff and she knew that 
he was about to cum ... cum in her mouth. She sucked as hard as she could, 
nibbling gently along his thick rod and tickling it with her tongue. 

He's going to enjoy this if it's the last thing I do, she vowed, and she 
pulled frantically at his hips so that the end of his penis touched the back 
of her throat. 

"OOOOOOHHHHHH," he moaned, as he could feel his loins tremble and the first 
stream of his semen shoot into her waiting throat. 

She held him hard against her mouth as he jerked out his frenzied orgasm, 
his knees pressed soundly against the side of her head and she swallowed his 
spurting, lengthy orgasm. The hot, sticky semen flooded her mouth and 
trickled down her throat, warming her, drenching her, but it didn't matter 
anymore, nothing mattered anymore. 

Slowly his convulsions stopped and his once erect phallus slipped wetly from 
between her lips, She lay there still clinging to the material of his 
trousers gasping for her own labored breath. 

His prick hung limply over her soft, beautiful face and he fell back, his 
hips resting on his ankles. 

"You are soooo good, baby," he crooned, touching- her face gently, "Soooo 
good!" 

She closed her eyes, hoping that somehow this would make a difference, that 
he could become a normal lover and love her the way she had loved him in the 
beginning, and she tried to forget the horrible feeling of filth and 
degradation she had experienced when the dog had made love to her. 

She wondered if she could ever feel normal again, clean again, but right now 
all she wanted was to go home and never come back to this place again. 

Chapter 7 

Neither one of them mentioned their visit to Madame Le Fleur's villa the 
following day and he acted as nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She 
had tried to arouse him that morning; she had fondled him, kissed him, 
kissed his loins, his manhood, but he was passive and looked at her 
astounded. 

"What are you trying to prove?" he had asked harshly, and pushed her aside 
as though she were annoying him; so with tears streaming down her face she 
had gotten out of bed and walked into the bathroom. She couldn't believe 
that the only way he could become excited was to see her suffer, but it was 
a reality that she would have to face if she wanted to continue to be his 
wife or else she would have to leave. If she left, she knew that it would be 
the end of her career, but to live with him would be the end of her life. 
She couldn't go on letting him humiliate her, use her as his own toy to his 
own advantage without caring whether she lived or died. It was too much for 
her to take! 

She dressed quickly and packed a small suitcase and started for the door of 
their suite. 

"Where do you think you're going?" he shouted after her. 

"I'm leaving you," she said as calmly as she could, "for good!" 

He laughed and said, "You'll be back if you still want to have your career!" 

The words stung her worse than any physical violence could have, but she 
still had some pride left and she knew that if she stayed now he would have 
won and that couldn't happen. She wouldn't become an animal for anyone, not 
even her own husband, whom she had loved so much. 

"I don't care," she said softly, "nothing is worth what I have to pay to 
stay with you." 

She opened the door to the hall and he called to her, "Let me know where to 
ship the rest of your things, or you can pick them up at the studio when you 
get back, if you do come back." 

He was laughing cruelly, harshly, and it maddened her to know that even now 
he was still so damned sure of himself. It almost made her leaving easier, 
but it still hurt. 

She went to the airline counter in the lobby and asked the man at the desk 
when she could catch the first plane out of Paris. 

"Where to," he asked. 

"Anywhere," she said, looking at the carpet, "I just want to get away from 
here!" 

"Well, there's a plane to Nice in about two hours that you should be able to 
catch if you hurry." 

"That will be just fine," she told him, "I'll get a cab and please call and 
make my reservation, my name is Jennifer Rhodes." 

"Certainly, Miss Rhodes," he said, "and have a pleasant trip. I'm sorry you 
couldn't stay longer in Paris. " 

So am I, she mused, but picked up her bag and asked the doorman to call her 
a taxi. 

Her mind was so confused about what had happened during the past three days 
that it was difficult for her to concentrate on what she was going to do 
once she arrived in Nice. She had never been in Europe before and she was 
certain that she didn't know anyone in Nice, but she would have to manage 
somehow. She could call the Consulate there and perhaps they could tell her 
what her best hotels were, where she should eat and how she should go about 
getting back to the United States, but in the meantime, she needed a rest, a 
few days by herself and time to think about what she would do when she did 
return. She was certain that Grant wouldn't waste any time calling the 
studios and telling them that she had left Paris and that if she did not 
come back right away that no one was to hire her without consulting him 
first. 

She wondered how a man who had seemed so gentle, so much in love could be so 
cruel, such a monster, but he was, and she would have to face it. 

She boarded the plane at Orly and chose a seat next to a window near the 
front of the plane. She hoped that no one would take the seat next to her so 
she put her bag on it and pretended that she was asleep even before the 
plane was in flight. 

They were only on the ground for about fifteen minutes before she heard the 
engines start up and the plane begin to move along the long runway and the 
wheels leave the ground. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was sure 
that they were airborne and she was on her way. 

The stewardess brought her some coffee and pastry and asked if she would 
like some magazines. She said yes, but then realizing that they would all be 
written in French, she reclined her seat and fell asleep. She didn't know 
how long a flight it was to Nice, but it didn't matter, she was so glad to 
be getting away, away from her husband, and maybe even away from her own 
conscience. 

It seemed to be hours later when the stewardess gently tapped her on the 
shoulder and told her to fasten her seat belt that they would be landing in 
Nice in a very few minutes. She looked out the window and saw the clearest 
blue water she had ever seen. The buildings looked so quaint, so provincial, 
and it looked like an ideal place for her to have some peace of mind. The 
sandy beaches stretched for miles and the weather was sunny, it looked like 
a perfect retreat. 

It took her about an hour to get out of the airport, check a directory and 
make arrangements for a place to stay. She had found a Traveller's Aide in 
the lobby and they were very helpful in recommending her accommodations, so 
with this out of the way, she hailed a taxi and told him where she wanted to 
go. The sun and fresh air livened her spirits considerably and she forgot 
temporarily what she had done, what had happened to her and why she was 
leaving her new husband on their honeymoon. All that was behind her now and 
she would start living again right here and now. She smiled to herself, 
knowing that she had done the right thing and hoping that she could still 
salvage her career regardless of Grant's threats and promises. 

The cab ride wasn't long and shortly she was at her destination. The hotel 
was small, but inexpensive and certainly adequate for her own particular 
needs, at least for the time being. 

The people were charming and friendly, not the same type she had found in 
Paris at all. They seemed to be a much warmer people, more under standing 
and that was just what she needed. She didn't think that she could take 
another few days like her last ones had been, but then that just couldn't 
happen! She unpacked her bag and hung up the few things that she had brought 
with her and decided to take a nap. The sun had warmed the room and she 
quickly fell into a sound, peaceful sleep. It wasn't until late that evening 
that she awoke, took a shower and went to a nearby cafe for some dinner. She 
chose a small table in the corner and ordered her meal. She knew that 
several of the young men in the restaurant were looking at her, but she 
ignored their obvious stares and ate her meal quickly, drank two glasses of 
wine and walked back to the hotel. There would be time enough to make 
friends and have company if she wanted it, but right now she wanted to be 
alone, completely alone. 

Even though she had slept in the afternoon it didn't take her long to doze 
off again. The past three days had been hectic and her sleep had been 
fitful, so she needed her rest badly. 

In the morning she heard the bell captain knock at her door and ask if she 
would prefer to have breakfast in her room. She told him that she would, and 
asked him if it were possible to get a local newspaper that was written in 
English. He told her that it wasn't, but she ordered one anyway and decided 
that she would have to rely on her prep school education in languages to 
find out what was going on in town. She hadn't been forced to use her French 
in Paris, but now she would have no choice. 

She showered quickly so that she would be clean and fresh when her breakfast 
tray arrived and she opened the window wide to let the clean, sweetsmelling 
air fill the room. 

She ate a leisurely breakfast and stretched out on her bed. She didn't want 
to spend the entire day in her room so she asked the waiter whether or not 
there were any beaches nearby that she could go to. He told her in his 
broken English that a very popular beach was just a few blocks from the 
hotel and pointed to the right of the building. 

She dressed in her bathing suit and put a short cotton shift on over it so 
she wouldn't have to find a locker once she was at the beach. 

When she walked down the street the men turned around and their eyes 
followed her. She had heard that the European men were more overt in their 
admiration and she found it flattering rather than offensive. It was 
different than the American construction worker who made cat calls and 
whistled after her when she walked to and from the studio. 

The sandy beach seemed to stretch for miles and miles and it was the 
cleanest, whitest sand that she had ever seen. She put her blanket down not 
too far from the water's edge and laid down, using the newspaper to shelter 
her face. She couldn't afford to get too much sun the first day or she would 
be badly burned. She looked around at the other people on the blankets 
nearby. Everyone seemed to be in couples, either talking, laughing or 
casually making love. What a romantic spot, she thought to herself. 

She had been there about an hour when she heard a man's voice say, 

"You're not really reading that paper, are you?" 

She looked up and saw a deeply tanned Latin looking man smiling down at her. 

"No," she said softly, "would you like to borrow it?" 

He laughed at her, his white teeth gleaming, accentuating the strong lines 
of his face. 

"No, I'd like to borrow you," he answered her jokingly. 

"Your English is very good," she said, amazed because he didn't look English 
or American. 

"I studied there for many years," he said, "but I'd be happy to translate 
the newspaper for you. You looked as though you were having a problem." 

"I was," she admitted, even though she knew that he knew she hadn't been 
reading it when he approached her. 

"I was trying to find out what is going on in this E lovely town," she told 
him. "It's my first day here and I'd like to know where I should go, what I 
should see, the usual tourist things." 

"You're far too lovely to be a tourist," he grinned at her, "but let me help 
anyway." 

He turned the paper to the social section and she glanced over his shoulder 
as he ran his finger over the columns looking for something that might be of 
interest to her, when her eyes caught a name, her father's! 

"What . .. . what does that say," she asked, her voice trembling with 
excitement. 

"What does what say," he asked her. 

"That ... about Carter Rhodes." 

"Oh, do you know him?" 

"Sort of," she lied, not wanting him to know who she was, "What does it 
say?" 

"You seem awfully anxious to know for his being just an acquaintance," he 
teased, "but I'll tell you anyway." 

"Please," she urged him. 

"It seems that there is to be a party tomorrow night at an estate outside of 
town, a party given by a Marquessa La Salle, a costume ball. She's a high 
society woman and it's for some charity or another. Okay?" 

"Is it by invitation only," she inquired, "or can I subscribe to the 
charity?" 

He looked her directly in the eye, and said, "This is rather important to 
you, isn't it?" 

"Quite," she answered him, her heart pounding so hard that she was certain 
that he could hear ii. "I've just got to go." 

"Well, the party is by invitation only, but I'll tell you what I'll do." 

"What's that?" she said warily. 

"Don't look so scared, I'm harmless, really. I just like to help beautiful 
women in distress!" 

"I'm sorry," she said, "I guess I do seem to be a bit of a fool, but it' 
means so much to me, but I can't explain." 

"It just so happens that I belong to the social elite of this fair city, and 
I have an invitation to the party. I would be happy to get you through the 
gate tomorrow night on one condition." His voice was light and cheerful, but 
she could detect a little bitterness when he referred to the social elite. 

"What's the condition," she asked, afraid that she would have to pass the 
opportunity, but not knowing how she, could do it. 

"Just this," he continued, "have dinner with me tonight, nothing else, I 
promise." 

He seemed so sincere and he had been so help ful that she didn't see how she 
could refuse him, especially if she wanted to get to that party the next 
night. 

"I'd love to have dinner with you," she told him, "but I must get to bed 
early, I'm still tired from my trip." She was lying to him, but she didn't 
want another involvement, not at this point. 

"It would really be my pleasure," he said, "I meet so few women as beautiful 
as you!" 

She thanked him and told him her name was Jennifer Roberts, using Grant's 
last name instead of her own and told him that she was in a hotel about 
three blocks from where they were now. 

"I'm Paulo," he said, "I know the hotel and I'll pick you up about eight." 

"That will be fine," she smiled, and he excused himself, waving to her as he 
walked further on down the beach. 

She wanted to get up, dance, laugh, throw her hands in the air. She had 
never expected to find her father still here in Nice and now she would be 
able to see him. She wanted to be near her father so much, hear his laugh, 
be able to reach out and touch him, gain from his strength, and now she 
could do it, and it would be so easy. She was certain that Paulo would get 
her into the party, he had promised her he would and from then on she knew 
she would be able to find her father even though everyone would be in 
costume. 

She quickly picked her things up from the beach and ran back to the hotel. 
She would have to think of something that she would wear for a costume, 
something so her father would not be able to recognize her. She couldn't let 
him know that she was there or he would ask what had happened to her career, 
her marriage, and she couldn't bear to tell him, not just yet. 

She rummaged through her luggage and found nothing that would suffice, so 
she asked the manager of the hotel to recommend a good seamstress or tailor 
who could make her a costume in one day. 

The manager told her that his wife was an excellent seamstress and she would 
be happy to help her make a costume that would be ready for the following 
day. She thanked him and went back to her room and waited to hear from his 
wife. She didn't know exactly what she wanted, but it had to disguise her 
thoroughly. 

The costume had to be as simple as possible so that it wouldn't take much 
time to put together, so she decided that she would go as a ballerina. She 
could wear some sheer tights that she had with her and her bathing suit 
would do for a base for the costume. All she would need would be some lace 
and a few ruffles to fill in and she could manage. She could have the 
seamstress make her a mask from some lace also, but it had to be large 
enough to cover most of her face. 

The manager's wife was knocking on her door in about a half an hour and 
within another fifteen minutes she explained what she wanted done and the 
woman took her bathing suit, told her that she would buy the lace and trim 
and put it together for her. 

Jennifer thanked her, tipped her generously for her trouble and held her 
breath with the excitement until she had left and she was alone in her room 
once again. She couldn't believe that fate had been so kind to her, that she 
would be near her father again. She needed him now more than she had ever 
needed him in her whole life. 

She planned in her own mind what she would do when she was near him, how she 
would act. It would be the most difficult thing in the world for her not to 
run up to him, throw her arms around him and cry, "Daddy, I need you," but 
she knew that she wouldn't be able to do that, she couldn't do that( It 
would have to be enough just being near him and knowing that he was there. 

She couldn't think about anything else the rest of the day, even when she 
knew that she would have to be ready to have dinner with Paulo at eight. She 
couldn't be late for that or he might think that she didn't care and not 
take her to the party next night, so about six o'clock she started to get 
ready. 

They went to a quiet little restaurant with candles on every table, violins, 
and the richest food she had ever eaten. Paulo was a perfect gentleman and 
seemed to be pleased with the fact alone that she had joined him for dinner. 
He was most atten- tive without being forward and for the first time in a 
long time she could relax. They lingered over their meal and bottle of wine, 
listening to the violins and enjoying each other's company. He told her that 
his parents were very wealthy and that he had been educated in the United 
States, but had returned to Nice to live because he enjoyed the life of 
leisure in comparison to the rat race he would have had in America. He was 
still invited to the "right" parties because of his parents, but that no one 
really approved of his laziness, but he just wasn't ready to settle down as 
yet. 

She told him that she could sincerely sympathize with him, that she wished 
that she could do the same thing, but unfortunately her parents weren't 
wealthy. She hoped that he wouldn't notice that she was wearing an original 
dress and that her jewelry was real, but if he did, he accepted her story. 

He walked her slowly back to her hotel, kissed her gently on the cheek and 
told her that he would. see her the next night in time to take her to the 
party. She knew that he would be there, so she slept peacefully, dreaming of 
what would happen the very next day. 

She thought that the following must have one hundred hours for the time 
dragged by so slowly before it was finally time for Paulo to pick her up, 
She was ready almost an hour ahead of time be cause she didn't want to be 
one second late for the party, that would mean one second less with her 
father. 

They drove for about a half an hour before they reached the mansion where 
the party was being held. 

Many of the guests were already there, drinking, talking and dancing, and it 
was difficult to tell the men from the women with all the elaborate 
costumes. Paulo had told her that she was the most beautiful creature he had 
ever seen when he picked her up. Her costume was simple, but it accentuated 
the fine curves of her body, her long, slender legs, the full curve of her 
soft, rounded breasts and the narrowness of her waist. Her hair was piled on 
top of her head and shone like satin, smooth and silky, catching the 
flickering of the lights in each strand. Her mask hid the beauty of her 
eyes, but could not hide their special sparkle, that inner glow, and her 
cheeks were flushed like a girl in love. 

There must have been fifty to one hundred people crowded into one large room 
of the mansion and she wondered how she would ever be able to find her 
father. She went directly to the bar, ordered a drink and began to circulate 
among the guests, listening and watching, hoping to hear his voice or notice 
a familiar mannerism of his. She had been there almost an hour and was 
beginning to lose hope when she heard his familiar laugh coming from a group 
of people standing in one corner of the room. Little by little she edged her 
way toward them and stood just a few feet away. She wanted to go to him, 
throw her arms around him, but she knew that she couldn't, so she just stood 
there and watched. He had not changed at all, even with the mask on, he was 
still the same suave, charming man she had always known, surrounded by the 
women and keeping them all amused. She wished that she, too, could join 
their group, but she was afraid that he might recognize her voice if she 
spoke, or perhaps even her laugh. She was shaking with excitement so she 
gulped the rest of her drink in an effort to calm her nerves. 

"Oh daddy," she whispered to herself, "Oh daddy!" 

She had lost Paulo somewhere in the crowd, but she was never without a man 
by her side. For once she wished, that the men would leave her alone so that 
she could just concentrate on what her father was saying, doing and devote 
her entire attention to him. He turned around several times and glanced in 
her direction, but she was certain that he hadn't recognized her, that it 
was just a look of a man admiring a beautiful woman. She smiled at him and 
then looked away before he could break loose from his group of admirers and 
join her. If he had spoken to her she wasn't sure what she would do. She 
couldn't answer him because he might recognize her voice and then he would 
want to know what she was doing in Nice and what had happened to her. She 
couldn't bear to see a look of disappointment in his face, she couldn't hurt 
him like that. 

The music was becoming louder and faster as the evening went on and several 
of the guests were getting rather drunk. She didn't mind the men who were 
drunk, but there were several of the women who were barely able to walk. One 
young girl in particular had begun a slow, undulating strip right in the 
middle of the room, shedding her costume piece by piece until she was 
completely nude except for her mask. No one really seemed to care or 
particularly notice her nudity until she began to dance around the room, 
flaunting her young, lithe body in front of every single man in the room. It 
wasn't long before she disappeared into another part of the house with two 
or three of the men and didn't reappear for some time. Evidently some of the 
other women thought that this was obviously an excellent attention getter, 
so they followed suit and then a group of the men began to shed their 
clothes. It was a very liberal group, because the nudity of the guests was 
neither particularly offensive or shocking, they were just nude, a mass of 
bodies, different shapes and sizes, but none of the bodies belonging to any 
specific face. 

She wasn't sure what she was going to do. She didn't want to leave the 
party, but she didn't want to join the others in taking off their clothes 
until she glanced over in the corner where her father had been standing and 
he, too, had begun to shed his costume. 

"OH NO, Daddy," she said aloud, but no one had heard her in the confusion. 
She couldn't believe that her father would take part in such a display, but 
there he was removing the last piece of cloth from around his waist and 
standing completely naked among the others. She had seen her father in a 
bathing suit many times, but it was a shock to see him there with nothing to 
hide his marvelous build, his ample manhood and the strong, sinewy muscles 
of his stomach and loins. 

She knew that if she were going to stay at the party she would have to 
remove her costume also, because her clothing now made her stand out from 
the crowd more so than if she didn't have it on, so reluctantly she began to 
peel away the lace and frills of her already brief outfit and put them in 
one corner. She heard several people gasp at the sight of her young 
voluptuous body as she turned around and went back to join the others who 
were now dancing sensually, touching, rubbing their bodies together in time 
to the frenzied, frantic music. She knew that she had a beautiful body and 
she stood proudly among the other guests, hoping that she could spend just a 
little while longer near her father. 

She went back to the bar to get another drink even though she felt that she 
had had too many already, but she had to do something. She was just ordering 
a scotch when someone tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to dance. She 
froze, trembling, afraid to turn around. She had recognized her father's 
voice and now she was trapped, she couldn't get away. 

"My God no," she whispered before she turned around to face him. She knew 
that she couldn't speak or he would identify her. 

"Would you like to dance," he repeated, his eyes devouring every inch of her 
luscious, ripe, young body and taking her by the arm. 

She put her drink down and pointed to her throat, gesturing that she had had 
laryngitis and she had lost her voice, but she followed him onto the dance 
floor. 

He held her tightly while they danced and she could feel the tenseness of 
his thighs as he pressed her hips firmly against his and she could feel the 
beginning of his erection begin as he rubbed his body against hers. She 
wanted to pull away, but she found it strangely exciting and rationalized 
that, after all, he didn't know that it was his own daughter he had in his 
arms. After they had finished their dance she knew that she would have to 
get away from him at least for awhile or she would be in a situation that 
she couldn't handle and she would have to reveal her identity, so she 
motioned that she would like to excuse herself and went back to the bar. Her 
heart was beating so fast that she quickly downed three or four scotches 
before she realized that the room was beginning to spin and that she felt 
faint. 

She staggered down a hallway and into a bedroom that was not already 
occupied by another couple and laid down on the bed. The room was quite 
large and dark and there was another bed in the far corner of the room. She 
was almost in a stupored, drunken sleep when she heard a laughing couple 
come into the room where she was resting and collapse on the other bed. She 
hoped that they wouldn't notice that they were not alone, so she turned over 
quietly and tried to go back to sleep. 

She could hear their bodies rustling on the bedspread, the sound of their 
mouths as they locked in a passionate kiss, and the moans coming from the 
woman's lips. 

"Oooooh," she groaned, "you're so good!" 

"My lovely ... my lovely," the man said, and Jennifer gasped. It was her 
father on the bed with another woman!! A pang of jealousy crept through her 
body because she knew that it could have been her if she had only stayed 
with him on the dance floor, but she mustn't think like that. She listened 
attentively to the sounds of their lovemaking and she could feel a fiery 
tenseness building in her own loins. 

"Daddy ... daddy," she whispered softly, as she heard the shrieks of ecstasy 
uttered by the other woman, her gasps and moans while they made love. She 
pressed her thighs and knees tighter together in a vaint attempt to quench 
the passionate feeling that was taking over her entire being, her very soul. 
The woman's words were so broken with passion and lust that she wished that 
she could have a lover like her father. She needed someone to satisfy the 
burning hunger that was inside her, someone to satisfy her now. She stirred 
nervously on the bed, hoping that they wouldn't hear her and fairly certain 
that they wouldn't, they were too enthralled in their own love-making. Their 
passionate sounds filled her ears and she heard the creaking and groaning of 
the bed under their furious movement. 

"Oh yes ... yes," the woman choked out, "I'm going to cum!" 

Jennifer could hardly. stand it any longer. She wanted to run over to the 
bed and pull her father off the woman and into bed with her, she was so 
jealous! 

"Lift up," she heard her father tell the woman, "Spread your legs wider!" 

"Ohhhh, yes ... harder, fuck me harder," she begged him, and she could hear 
her father raise up farther on his knees and pull the woman roughly toward 
him, thrusting deep into her until her words became inaudible, mixed with 
loud groans and gasps of wild uninhibited passion. 

How she wished that she were the woman on the bed, that her father was 
pummeling into her instead of the other woman. The juices of her own passion 
were starting to flow inside her and brought her knees up to her chest then 
straightened them out again nervously. She wasn't sure that she would be 
able to endure the torture her body was going through. She didn't want a 
vicarious lover, she wanted a real lover, a man, a man inside her NOW! 

She knew that her father would soon be reaching his climax because she could 
hear his rasping breath as he thrust more violently into the prostrate, 
writhing woman beneath. 

"Yes ... yes," she nearly shouted, "Give it to me ... give it to me!" 

The smacking of their bodies, locked together in furious passion, the loud 
panting and gasping was more than she could bear and she twitched and 
squirmed alone on her own bed. 

"Aaaagggggghbhhh," she heard her father groan and she knew that he was 
emptying his hot sperm deep into the woman's belly because in a moment they 
were quiet and only their labored breathing could be heard in the dark 
stillness of the room. She waited patiently, afraid to move for fear that 
they would discover that they had not been alone, and in a moment the woman 
got up from the bed and started to leave. 

"I must get back, darling," she told her father, "my husband might have 
missed me by now. Not that I really care, but it will just make things 
easier if he doesn't know." 

Her father chuckled softly and told her to run along, but he remained lying 
quietly on the bed. His voice had sounded almost impersonal when the woman 
left, quite the opposite from what it had been just moments before, but she 
supposed that these things did happen and even her own father was 
susceptible to a whim of the flesh. It made her feel better to know that the 
woman had meant nothing to her father except for that one physical moment 
and she smiled to herself. Men were so lucky, they could have their casual 
or even momentary affairs and walk away from them, she was sure that she 
would never be able to do that, especially with a man as attractive and 
charming as her father. 

When the woman had left the room and closed the door behind her, she heard 
her father turn on his bed and wait for a second before she heard his feet 
on the floor. She froze, afraid to even breathe, but she heard the footsteps 
move nearer and nearer to her bed. She pretended to be asleep, but a hand 
was on her shoulder and back of her neck, shaking her gently. 

"I thought I heard someone in the room," he chuckled. "Did you enjoy the 
show." 

She rolled over and looked into her father's face. The room was so dark that 
she was not certain whether or not he still had his mask on, but she 
adjusted hers so that he would not be able to tell who she was even if he 
didn't have his on. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, doing her best to disguise her voice. 

"That's all right," he added, "I rather enjoyed knowing that I had an 
attentive audience, I found it flattering." 

She didn't know what to say as his hand ran over the curve of her naked hip 
and down her thigh, caressing her smooth, supple flesh gently, sending a 
shiver through her whole body. 

"You're much more beautiful, softer than she was," he continued, moving 
closer to her on the bed and putting his arms on either side of her body and 
leaning down to kiss her warmly, deeply. 

"Ooooohhhh," she moaned softly as she felt her father's tongue slip between 
her teeth and dart quickly into her throat. She sucked and nibbled gently at 
his tongue, drawing him down to her on the bed with a new kind of urgency, 
her nails scraping the solid, hard muscles of his back. 

The space between her legs felt hot, wet and vulnerable and she wanted him 
inside her more than anything else. It didn't matter anymore that he was her 
father, she loved him and wanted him and she would deal with her conscience 
later. If he got up and left her now she would have gone out of her mind. 

"Oh baby," he whispered against her hair, "Oh baby." 

Her mind was screaming ... DADDY... DADDY ... FUCK ME! and her fingers and 
hands clung to him desperately as though he were a shadow that would 
disappear. 

His hands were caressing the voluptuousness of her young, full breasts, 
pinching the nipples into erectness and his mouth closed over them and he 
began sucking noisily. She could feel his long, thick manhood begin to come 
to life again as it jerked against the inner part of her thigh and she 
inched her hips forward so that his massive prick was throbbing just between 
her legs. 

She ran her hands searchingly all over his body, pressing every hollow, 
exploring, learning everything she could. They were both breathing heavily 
and rocking together as if in time to music. Neither one wanted to rush, 
they wanted to take their time, explore every crevice, muscle, curve of each 
thers bodie ;, It was the most exquisite feeling she had ever had, the 
gentlest, but, by far, the most passionate and consuming. 

His erect and pulsing penis jiggled between her thighs, but he had not yet 
explored the sensitive area between her loins and he wasn't ready to take 
her yet. His hands grasped her buttocks and pulled her closer to him, 
letting his fingers find the hot, moist crease between her loins and began 
to gently rub them backwards and forwards until she was wriggling 
uncontrollably under his touch. 

"God, you're hot," he moaned, "you're so hot!" 

She thought that the heat between her legs would consume her, send her up in 
a cloud of smoke. 

"Hold me," he ordered her gently, and she slowly let her fingers grasp his 
fiery, thick rod and massage -it softly, feeling the lubricant of his 
passion on the bulbous, rounded head. She caressed it mechanically, easing 
the foreskin back and forth over his massive rod and she could feel his hips 
jerk with each movement of her fingers. 

His fingers were toying with the fleshy, pink lips of her vagina, seaprating 
them, squeezing them and running his finger between them just over her damp 
opening to her womb. 

"Yessssss," she groaned, her voice too choked with passion to be 
distinguishable. 

He let one finger slip inside her, tickling the rub bery walls of her warm, 
wet pussy, scraping them gently with his nail. 

He hurt her a couple of times, but her passion that was building in her body 
made it a delicious kind of pleasure rather than pain. She wanted him to do 
anything to her, everything to her, it didn't matter as long as he never 
stopped. 

His hands came back to the flushed bulbs of her breasts, stroking them 
tenderly at first so that the pores of the skin seemed to open under his 
fingers and she pushed her body up against his strong hands, urging him to 
crush her with his fingers. 

His already massive penis was growing even thicker in her hand and she 
didn't want to let go, she wanted to hold it forever, feel its length and 
thickness in her hand for the rest of her life. She didn't care what the 
world thought, she just wanted him, had always wanted him and now he was 
going to make love to her! 

She whispered his name to herself, her soul crying out for satisfaction, her 
body aching to be crushed beneath his weight until she could feel nothing 
else. She was suffering a semi-sweet agony knowing that what she was doing 
was not right, but also knowing that she had never loved anyone as much as 
she loved her father, nor wanted anyone as much. She had never wanted to 
give herself so freely, so completely before, so unselfishly. She bit the 
skin at the base of his neck, then kissed it gently, watching his muscles 
jerk in spasms as her tongue ran along his skin, bring bumps of pleasure to 
the~surface. She wanted to excite him, make him happy, happier than he had 
ever been before and she -was going to do it! She was going to make him let 
her do it! 

She eased away from his grip slowly and began to move her head and her mouth 
down his body, kissing every inch of flesh she could manage to cover. 

His arms tightened around her and he could feel her body trembling against 
him and he was filled with an overwhelming tenderness towards her. He did 
not know who this beautiful, passionate, giving young woman was beneath him, 
but he wanted to caress her, love her, love her completely. A special warmth 
flowed through his being, not the animal lust he had felt with the other 
woman, but a special kind of glow, a happiness and contentedness that he had 
not felt in a long time. 

She kissed the breadth of his chest, the narrowness of his waist and hips 
until her lips closed around his throbbing phallus. He gasped as her moist, 
warm mouth closed over the blood-red head of his excitedly pulsating cock 
and her tongue caressed its length with a gentleness he had never known. 

"Ooohhhh," he groaned, "Yes ... yes." 

She smiled to herself, happy in the thought that she was making him happy, 
making him feel the tenderness that she felt for him. 

"Darling," he gasped, his hands tightening around her shoulders and pushing 
her down farther onto him. She could feel the smooth rubbery head press at 
the back of her throat and she wanted to devour him, consume him totally, 
make him completely hers and hers alone. 

She continued her voracious mouthing,of his hardened prick for several 
minutes, but as soon as she could taste the first salty drop of his semen 
she stopped not wanting to bring him to a climax just yet. He pulled her 
roughly up on him and kissed her fiercely, passion flaring with tenderness 
as their bodies locked together, their lips moving of their own will over 
eyes, cheeks, necks, their breathing so inflamed that it choked into 
half-uttered words. 

It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter ... nothing matters, she told herself, 
her soul on fire with passion and desire. She opened her thighs slightly to 
let his hot, jerking rod slip between her legs in an agony of sensation and 
she buried her face in his shoulder, pressing it hard into the muscular 
flesh. Between her legs was a pool of aching, needing, straining, with a 
greater and greater yearning that was totally consuming her. 

"Oh how I want you," he murmured, "my beautiful." 

Tears of happiness began to stream down her face and onto his body as she 
felt him move between her thighs, separating her legs with his knees and 
adjusting his hips so that his giant rod was lying gently throbbing between 
the moist, hot lips of her vagina. 

"Oh yes," she groaned as she felt the first stab of his huge cock ease into 
her, sending tremors through her entire being. 

Her vagina seemed huge and incredibly naked, the boiling fluids rising in a 
faster and more heated flood until she couldn't bear it any longer. 

"Aaaaaggghh," she groaned as he pushed his hard, thick cock further into 
her, splitting her channel with each thrust, driving her into an ecstatic 
state of delirium. She was quivering, clinging, gasping in an effort to stay 
her orgasm, so that she could feel the entire length of his manhood as it 
surged into her with greater and greater speed. 

She convulsed under him, hanging onto him, her nails scraping along his back 
and hips, pushing and pulling against him and away from him with each of his 
powerful thrusts. Her gasps became hoarser and hoarser as his thrusts became 
more and more forceful, until she uttered one long, low exclamation and she 
could wait no longer. 

"I'm cumming ... I'm cumming," she chokea out, "Harder ... I'm cumming!" 

He buffeted her into the mattress, throwing his entire weight on top of her 
and she pulled her knees back against her breasts so that he could bury 
himself into her squirming loins to the very hilt. 

"God," he gasped, "Oh god ... yes!" 

He could feel her contractions around his screaming prick and he held her 
fast, his cudgel buried inside her to the very tip of her cervix. When she 
had finished, she could feel his thickness growing even larger and the first 
warm spurt of his sperm shot deep into her belly. 

"Give it to me, daddy," she murmured as he panted above her, his own 
breathing making what she had said inaudible. He surged inside her, filling 
her, consuming her with his passion as the last of his hot sperm flooded 
into her waiting loins. 

When they were both spent, they lay side by side on the bed, touching, 
fondling tenderly, before he finally got up and walked to the bathroom. 
Neither one of them spoke, but before he left the room he leaned over and 
kissed her tear stained cheeks awl touched her soft breast ently 

"My secret little beauty," he whispered, then walked back into the main 
room. 

She couldn't move, she couldn't think, she just wanted to be alone, alone in 
the warmth of her feeling awl not have to face the reality of what she had 
allowed to happen. 

"Oh daddy ... daddy ... help me," she cried out loud, sobs wracking her 
body. 

She didn't know how she would ever be able to face him again, how she would 
ever be able to look him in the eye and call him "Daddy." She wanted to call 
him her lover, but he must never know that it was she he had made love to. 

She didn't completely understand what had made her do it, but she had needed 
him so badly, needed his strength, his warmth and there he was. He had 
consoled her, given her strength, but now she wondered how she would live 
with the terrible knowledge that what she had done was wrong. 

He had been such a gentle lover, so tender, so unlike the others she had 
known that it wouldn't have been all wrong, but no matter how she tried to 
rationalize it still came back to the same thing . . She had let her father 
fuck her as though she had been a whore off the street ... and ... and he 
knew nothing about it. 

"Oh no ... DADDY... DADDY ... Please help me!" she sobbed before she finally 
staggered out, collected her clothes, and ran stumbling from the house to 
the long silvery beach, that glowed like gold in the shimmering light of the 
moon. 


The End
